


Antisocials Anonymous

by FlaringDichotomies



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: College, Demonstuck, M/M, Master? I'm just not sure how well this plan was thought through., Suggestive Themes, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-02 14:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10220342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlaringDichotomies/pseuds/FlaringDichotomies
Summary: John’s next words were incomprehensible to the vampire.  They stung his ears and set his mouth, throat, and chest on fire.  Dave hissed and scrambled back, right off the couch.  He landed on the floor in a heap of flailing limbs.  He rolled to his hands and knees and gagged himself.  After throwing up the blood, the intensity of the flames inside him dropped.  The pain was still enough to leave him curled up on his side, clutching his chest.Dave froze.  Something hard and sharp pressed against his throat, burning his skin despite being the same temperature as him.“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you.”~~~A work in poorly planned histrionics based on a prompt I encountered.





	1. 0

A young woman stood in the downtown district of her new home, just outside the popular club  _ Three in the Morning. _  A small mirror in hand, she feigned interest in fixing her dark lipstick.  In reality, the woman watched the reflections of partygoers as they streamed from the establishment.  Ever patient, she examined their demeanor and body language in the small pane, in absence of a more glaring tell.  Finally, the door swung open on its own.  She listened as light footsteps passed her and glanced up.  Despite his grace, the man was surprisingly large and dressed in a long, grey overcoat.

 

**HIM.**

 

Reaching into her purse, the young woman traded her mirror for a pair of long thorns clipped from an alraune bush.  Then, she followed the man at 30 paces back.  The man kept to the main street for several blocks before turning into an alleyway.  The woman darted forward.   **GIVE HIM TO US.** When she turned the corner, the man was facing her.  His palms were open in a non-threatening posture.

 

“It’s late ta be wandering down an alley, girly.  Be more careful; I coulda been some kinda creep.  Ya oughtta know that’s dange-”

 

The woman raised her thorns skyward.  Then, she stabbed them toward the earth.  Two thorns eight feet in length tore themselves from the tangle of particles hidden between air and void.  They slammed down into the man, pinning him to the cement by his shoulder and leg.  His screech was entirely inhuman, a sound unholy enough to freeze a regular person in place.

 

This woman just curled her lip.  “Apologies.  It’s not my style to miss.  I prefer a painless death out of respect for your former humanity.”

 

“No, please,” the man whimpered, “I won’t hurt anyone, I swear.  Please don't kill me.”

 

**WE WILL JUDGE HIM.  STAY NOT YOUR HAND.**

 

The young woman brought her right hand up and stabbed down a second time.  The greater alraune thorn was yanked free of the man’s shoulder, leaving a ring of decayed flesh, and pierced his heart.

 

  _..__.           .__.._

 

In early fall, the campus was a lovely sight.  The stone formations were leeched of color over the years, and untamed ivy reclaimed many of the school’s walls.  Plans to renovate were made and delayed in an endless cycle of budgetary trouble.  Personally, John thought it added an air of mystery and was perfectly content with the College of the Lyrist.

 

Rather, he would be content had he recalled the size of the campus when he put together his schedule.  As it was, he took in very little of the architecture while weaving between students.  He had ten minutes to sprint from Calculus Three on one end of the University to Intro to Journalism on the other.  Worse, he suspected a bicycle would slow him down with this volume of people to dodge.

 

Arriving at Ebonpyre Hall with just a minute to spare, John double checked the room number on his schedule.  701.  Of course it was on the top floor.  The elevator would take too long.  With a histrionic sigh, he hit the stairs four steps at a time.  Finally swinging open the door, John nodded an apology to the instructor for the interruption and made a mental note to visit his academic counselor right after Journalism.  He needed to change his schedule.

 

He scanned the room for the last open seat; it was in the front right corner of the room.  John carefully sat- it still amazed him that such a spindly chair would support his weight- and produced a fresh set of pens and notebooks.  Then, he froze.  What on Earth was that smell?  A mix of apple blossoms, salt, and a hint of… vinegar?  No, it was a little more pungent; like formic acid.  Definitely formic acid.

 

Nearly dying of curiousity, John tried to act casual as he glanced to his left.  Then he saw the kid.  All pretense was lost, and his jaw dropped.  The guy was virtually glowing, paler than anyone John had ever seen with a pigment disorder.  His hair looked like sugar spun grass and his lips were a hint of rose in ice.  He wore onyx black aviators that contrasted with his skin like a soft kiss followed by a punch in the gut.  John suddenly had a very strong desire to see his brows, his lashes, his eyes, to just lean over and...

 

One of his desires was immediately fulfilled when the guy turned toward John and an eyebrow shot over his shades.  Oh goodness, it was even finer and prettier than his hair.  John was fairly certain he stopped breathing.  He couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

The guy must’ve noticed, too.  A hint of a smirk tugged at his lips, and he whispered, “Something catch your eye?”

 

Without the slightest volume control, John answered, “You smell like Apple Cider Vinegar.”  That earned John a view of both eyebrows.

 

The instructor looked irritated at the outburst and the rest of the class confused.  When he realized what he’d done, he blushed furiously and buried his head in his notes. “Sorry!” he squeaked.  For the rest of the hour, he snuck a liberal amount of looks to his left.  When the initial shock of the color wore off, John noticed that the boy would be pretty even in grayscale.  He had nice lines: prominent cheekbones and defined collarbones peaking out from his shirt.  Then there were the black skinny jeans.  They deserved an entire paragraph all on their own.  John wasn’t sure if he should be envious of those looks or delirious with want.

 

The first day syllabus and course overview didn’t need his full attention anyways.

 

When the instructor- Ken? It definitely started with a K.- dismissed them, the snowy boy turned to John.  “Apple Cider Vinegar?”

 

John flushed again.  The girl on the other side of the pale boy piped in, “I can smell it too!  I would've said an ant colony living in an apple tree.  Vinegar makes more sense, though.  Do you bathe in the stuff or what?!”

 

John couldn’t help but feel disappointed when the boy looked away from him.  “That is 100% natural, all organic eau de Strider.  Dave Strider, that is.”  Dave shook the girl’s hand.

 

“I’m Jade Harley!”

 

John shoved his fists in his sweater pockets.  The other two students talked until they were the last three left in the room.  John rose with them and awkwardly offered a hand.  “John Egbert.”

 

That earned yet another eyebrow from Dave, though he did take John’s hand.  “Little slow on the introduction there, my fine nosed friend.”

 

Jade grabbed John’s left for a double handshake.  Her skin was rich in color and calloused with years of honest effort.   “Nice to meet you, John!  Do either of you have 11 AMs?”

 

“Negative.”  “I’m free until 12:30.”

 

Jade beamed.  “We should all go get lunch, then!  What do you say?”

 

“Sure,” Dave said.

 

Thank you, thank you, thank you, kindly raven-haired girl.  “I’d like that.”

 

Surprisingly, neither Jade nor Dave opted for the elevator, apparently as unbothered by six flights of stairs as John.  Dave paused at the door to shrug on a jacket, hood, and gloves.

 

“Woah, it’s- what- 65 out?”

 

Dave shrugged.  “I don’t do well with direct sunlight.”

 

The main cafeteria was nestled behind the library.  John and Jade wolfed their plates down, and Dave was full after two small bites.  Jade declared an arm wrestling match for the leftovers.  John pulled his hand from his pocket, fully prepared to go easy on her.  He was not expecting to have his knuckles smashed mercilessly into the table.

 

“Ow!  I wasn't ready.  Best two out of three.”

 

“Whiner!  It's on.”

 

This time, he didn't hold back.  Dave had an entire chocolate cake left, and John admitted he was a glutton through and through.  It was Jade’s turn to look astonished when she was easily overpowered.

 

Round three, John grinned at his new classmate as he took her hand.  She grinned right back.  “Go,” Dave said.

 

To his surprise, Jade matched John muscle for muscle, all restraint gone in both parties.  The struggle was enough to make them both sweat, neither budging.  When the table beneath them started to creak, they exchanged a look and both let go at the same time.  “Guess it's a tie.”  All that effort, and they split the cake.

 

Still, Jade turned out to be just as interesting as Dave.  John better get used to running through mobs of students because he sure wasn't switching out of Journalism.

 

  _..__.           .__.._

.^"-.._ '-(\\__/)-' _..-"^.

 

The first week of college, John learned that Dave and Jade were both taking Journalism to fulfill a freshmen general requirement like him.  Jade was interested in particle physics, and Dave was majoring in Asian Studies with a specialization in Japanese, but “I swear to the gods, Egbert, if you say one word about anime, I will rip your tongue out and use it to clean my toilet.”

 

John was rather confused why the boy chose his field of study despite his vocal resentment of anything slightly related to the culture, but to each his own.  John told them he was hoping to major in Computational Biology, but he needed outstanding grades his first year to be accepted in the program.

 

The second week of school, John decided spending time with his two classmates was very pleasant.  He couldn't remember the last time he got close to someone.  He wasn't sure Jade and Dave actually liked him; he frequently caught them making similar twisted, wistful faces.  Still, Dave was clearly there to socialize.  He didn't even bother buying lunches anymore, just chatted with the others.  Thus ended the wrestling matches for his leftovers.

 

Two months in, a girl hung back to pester the instructor- was his name Kane?  As per usual, the three of them took their sweet time getting packed up.  None of them needed even a half hour to eat.  Why rush?

 

Thus, John overheard her talking.

 

“Sir, I would like to complete the project on my own.”

 

The instructor scowled at her.  “The workload is too much for one person.”

 

“So adjust the requirement.  I'll do half the work despite being a quarter the team.”

 

“I am NOT changing the project requirements just for you.  They were selected very deliberately.”  Karin? responded.  “Find at least one other student to work with, or I'm assigning you a group.”

 

Voice dripping with displeasure, the girl said, “Thank you, sir,” and spun on her heel.

 

The instructor went back to sorting his lecture material and wrestling with his bag.  “...hold your tongue. Have to hold your tongue…”

 

The girl was very lightly colored- though she may as well have been a box of crayons standing next to Dave- with platinum blonde hair and violet contacts.  John tapped her shoulder as she walked by, then stuffed his hands in his sweatshirt pouch.  “Excuse me.”

 

“Do you need something?”

 

“Well, we still need one more person.”  John turned suddenly to the others, uncertain if he'd overstepped his bounds.  “We have three people, right?  You guys will work with me?”

 

“Duh.”  “I’d love to work with all of you!”

 

The girl looked them over, eyes hard.  “Pardon my presumption, but I am not entirely convinced you can keep up with me,  _ apple cider vinegar.” _

 

John flushed.   _ That _ was why the girl wanted to work on her own, not just trouble finding teammates.  “That was just a slip up.  Here, I got a perfect score on the last assignment.”

 

John handed over his report debating the use of vintage cheeses in bakery products.  The girl skimmed the pages, then looked up in surprise.  “Albeit a rather eccentric topic choice, I admit the structure of your writing is competent.  I am also impressed that you managed to arrange an interview with Genevieve Anthony for a school assignment.  She's head chef at the Ace of Trump, no?”

 

“She is.  You could say I'm a frequent visitor.”

 

That earned a chuckle from the girl and an extended hand.  “Rose Lalonde.  Are you suggesting you regularly consume $80 filet mignon?”

 

“John Egbert.  What can I say?  I like food.”

 

Dave grabbed John by both shoulders and bodily turned the other toward him.  “John.  You have that much money to burn on food, and you haven’t been buying me lunch?  I am so broke, bro, so broke.”

 

Dave was right in his face.  John made himself look away.  Not in front of Jade, Rose, and the instructor. (Was it Carter?  No, Karin was closer.)  “I’m really sorry!  Is that why you don’t eat?  I don’t mind mooching, but it will cost you your pride and possibly your soul.”

 

“Worry not.  I lost my pride many years ago to fuzzy, technicolor proboscii, and my soul is tainted.  You’ll beg for a refund within a week.”

 

“I find it terrifying that you are completely serious.”

 

Rose exchanged names with the others.  “Have any of you chosen a topic for the project yet?”

 

Jade shrugged and looked at Dave who passed the metaphorical ball to John.  “It has to be related to the environment at Lyrist…  Did you guys know some of the scenes from  _ Orchid Horror _ were filmed here on campus?  I bet I could arrange a skype interview with the dir-”

 

“NO,” the other two chorused.

 

“Then we’ve got nothing.”

 

“Wonderful,” Rose said, “I already have a subject in mind, if you are willing: I’d like to write about the Literature Club on campus.”

 

Dave deadpanned, “Wow.  What an enthralling topic.  In fact, I’d rather write about Book Club than fuck myself.”

 

Karl?! muttered, “...but the  _ students _ can curse whenever they want…”

 

Rose glanced at their instructor before responding, “Last semester, the club was challenged by a large portion of the staff and student body for popularizing progressive material.  Despite being a mere book club, they were able to successfully campaign against the masses and had a large number of staff members replaced for breaking the code of conduct.  I thought it would make for an intriguing paper.”

 

“Woah, hold on blondie.  Lyrist’s prof turnover this year is because of the lit. kids?  You’re joking.  The new staff is at least 80% of the reason I’m here and not U of Houston.  The other 20% being the nearby mountain.”

 

“Oh?  Interested after all, Strider?”

 

Jade countered, “I’ll only agree if John and I can run some simulations and make projections based on alternate campaigning options.”

 

“I’m not opposed, though that seems above and beyond the project requirements.”

 

John laughed.  “I’m not here for an A, dummy.  I want to learn.  I’m not going to get anything out of a journalism class unless I apply it.”

 

“...students… bunch of insolent bulge suckers…” The instructor slammed the door on his way out.

 

“Whoops.”

 

After exchanging a few more details about the project and contact information, Rose went on her way, a bit more spring in her step than before.  Dave was rather upbeat himself when the remaining three arrived at the cafeteria.  He ran straight past the dishes to the beverages.  A bottle of apple juice in hand, he doubled back for an orange, a block of cheese, and plain granola.  Then he stopped in front of John.

 

“...Were you joking about feeding me?”  He looked so disappointed.

 

“Nah, I’ve got you, buddy.”  John noticed the tags on the items.  “Wait, do you only eat organic food?”

 

Dave looked away.  “Can’t have anything else, but this shit is so expensive.”

 

Dave stiffened when Jade gave him a hug.  “Oh, Dave!  You should’ve told us you couldn’t afford to eat this whole time.  That’s so sad!”

 

John patted him on the head.  Uguu, his hair was so soft.  “Morals are kind of a dumb reason to starve yourself.  Or do you have allergies?”

 

The boy shrugged sheepishly.  “It’s more of a religious thing.”

 

John had to cover his mouth.  “Are you actually Amish?  That would be hilarious for so many reasons.”

 

The pale boy laughed.  “I would be so screwed if I followed Ammann.  Not an ounce of humility in this perfect body.  As far as I’m concerned, I am an angel incarnate.  A very, very broke, unemployed angel living on a meager budget from my asshole of a brother.”

 

Jade elbowed him.  “An angel that’s scared of the sun.  You’re more of a vampire!”

 

Dave stiffened visibly at the suggestion before responding.  “Oh, very funny.  Make fun of my religion and my pigment disorder in one sentence.  Harshing the Strider swag.  You are the queen of sensitivity, Jade.”  Despite his indignance, Dave was still enthused about his meal, this time swallowing every bite.

 

  _..__.           .__.._

.^"-.._ '-(\\__/)-' _..-"^.   
          '-.' oo '.-'

 

The next day, Rose seated herself in the front alongside the other three.  Within a week, she joined them at lunch, easily melding with their dynamic.  She kept pace with Jade’s temperament and contributed to Dave’s lunch budget.  On occasion, the four of them got together for a study session or movies.  John especially appreciated her assistance with Calculus.  Though Jade also jumped straight to Calc 3 as a freshman, the eclectic girl wasn’t always the best at communicating ideas.  On the opposite end of the scale, Rose displayed unparalleled eloquence, if one could get over her wordiness.

 

John and Rose were hunkered down in the library at a table by the window, a small army of empty coffee cups scattered between them.  Caffeine equated to better exam grades in John’s opinion.

 

He just finished explaining one of the rare problems he understood better than the girl.  “Is that clear?”

 

“Much so, thank you.  I do have one question for you, though.  Is there any particular reason you defined S-sub i and S-sub r for the set of all integers and rationals, respectively?”

 

John laughed.  “Pff, that is the dumbest question you have ever asked me.  They’re just variables.  You can use whatever you want.”

 

Rose looked at him curiously.  “Dearest John, I am clearly familiar with the use of variables, as I marginally passed sixth grade mathematics.  My curiosity lies in why you chose not to use Z and Q.  Though I’m hardly one to adhere to societal standards myself, using the correct notation on assignments equates to better scores.”

 

“There isn’t correct notation.  They’re  _ variables.” _

 

“More correct, not really.  The standard since 1930, absolutely.”

 

John facepalmed.  “Right, right.  Those.”  He erased the tiny ‘i’ and ‘r’ and replaced them with a subscript ‘z’ and ‘q’ on his homework.

 

Rose’s laugh was always perfectly controlled albeit genuine.  “You haven’t the slightest inclination what I’m referring to.  A blackboard Z and Q?  I can explain if you’d prefer not to flounder.  There’s hardly any need to cover for your shortcomings or act more knowledgeable than you are.”

 

“Shh, just let me pretend I’m not dumb.”

 

“I would hardly refer to you as dumb.”

 

“Of course not, dearest Rose.  You would say I’m ‘a tad less rotund in the frontal lobe’ or something else silly.”

 

“You caught me there.”

 

John enjoyed bantering with Rose as much as grappling with Jade and dancing around Dave.  It surprised him how much he admired them.  College was downright dreamy until the day they were scheduled to meet with the Lit Club admins.

 

The quartet gathered in the student center lounge on October Sixth and made their way to the office reserved for the Literature meetings.  The door was peppered garishly with photos of cats.  Rose took the lead and knocked.

 

They were met with a sing song voice.  “Come in!”

 

The room was well organized and brightly decorated.  There were three students seated in a circle with three chairs remaining.  In the center was a cheery girl wearing an excess of shiny bangles.  To her left, a boy slouched over an old Gameboy, squinting through cheap 3D glasses.  Several cables poked out the back of the console’s casing.  Glaring at him was another boy to the right.  His hair was meticulously styled and dyed purple, and his clothing was visibly expensive.

 

John and Jade immediately wrestled each other to the nearest available seat.  After a couple moments scrabbling for purchase, John thought he had her in a choke hold.  Then, Jade clawed at him to free herself and twisted his hand out to pin him by his wrist.

 

“I give.  I give!”  John plopped on the floor and leaned against Jade.  He didn’t even consider going for the other two.  Rose was terrifying and Dave was gorgeous.

 

The cheery girl stood.  “Oh, I’m sorry!  I didn’t realize there would be four of you.  Here, please take my seat.”

 

John waved her off.  “Oh, don’t worry about it!  Perfectly comfy right here, scout’s honor.”  Jade kicked him.

 

“If you insist.  I’m Feferi Peixes, by the way.  Vice President of the club.  Nice to meet you all!”

 

Rose answered, “Hello, Feferi.  I'm Rose.  The snowflake is Dave, and the WWE act consists of John and Jade.”  She ignored their protests.  “Thank you for allowing us to interview you.”

 

“Of course!  It's exciting to hear someone taking a positive interest in our activities for once.  We have an hour set aside; I hope that's enough time.  We can start wherever you like!”

 

“Thank you.  We compiled a list of specific points to cover, though we'd like to start with your point of view of the story, if you don’t mind.  The information we have as of now is relatively limited.”

 

Feferi clapped her hands together, excited.  “From the beginning?”

 

Dave nodded, “If it’s relevant.”

 

“It wouldn’t be the beginning otherwise, silly.  Everything started last fall when one of our members, Aradia Megido, nominated the nonfiction work ColoUrs and Mayhem for club reading.  All of the admins were very excited about the choice-”

 

The boy to the right cleared his throat loudly.

 

Feferi was perfectly chilly when she addressed him.  “Do you need something, Eridan?”

 

“You neglected to introduce us.”  His cadence was heavy and suspiciously similar to the Elder Scroll’s voice actors.

 

“Sorry about that!  I figured you’d cut in  _ like usual. _  This is Eridan Ampora, our secretary.”  Feferi then waved to her left.  “And this is our treasurer, Sollux Captor.”

 

“What Fef?”  Sollux looked up from his game.  “Oh, when did you get here?”

 

The four of them exchanged a look and gave their names again.

 

“ ‘Thup.  I’m Thollukth.  Thahak ith the preth, but he wath buthy today.  Doethn’t matter though.  I’m actually in charge.”  Oh lord.  John hoped Feferi would be answering their questions.  Not that he thought any less of Sollux for the speech impediment and Eridan for the faked accent.  It was just… okay, he totally did.  Try not to vocalize the shallowness, he prompted himself.  It was only an hour.

 

Jade asked, “You make the calls then, Sollux?”

 

“Nah.  That’th what FF ith for.  If we need to get any actual work done… that’th where I thtep in.”

 

“And what did you think of the book ColoUrs and Mayhem when it was nominated?”

 

Sollux shrugged. “Interethting read for thure.  I wath adopted by white parentth, tho itth pretty relevant to me.  Cognitive dithonanthe from people in rethponthe to rathial dythphoria.  I’ve been there.”

 

John wasn’t quite following.  Hopefully, Rose was taking good notes.

 

Sollux nodded to Dave.  “You can probably empathithe.”

 

“I can.”  Dave cocked an eyebrow.  “That's why you're in charge?  You have an astute eye.”

 

“Pretty much.  No one elthe thpotth it, I athume?”

 

“Nope.”

 

Rose looked between them.  “Pardon?”

 

“The thape of hith fathe.  He’th tho fucking white, I didn't notithe at firtht, but-”

 

Dave finished, “Never met her, but my mom is Japanese.”

 

“Oh!  Yet you're always called-”

 

_ “I know, _ Egbert.  Now, my bro- that'd be an apt description for him.  Watched too much anime, decided he's a fucking ninja, moved to Japan.”

 

“Uh, wouldn't your brother also be-”

 

“Sorry, I meant my dad.”

 

“...What?”

 

Rose turned a questioning eye on Dave.  “Pardon my failure to make that observation.  Despite the relevance to our research paper, you chosen not to mention this because…?”

 

“Oh, fuck no, Lalonde.  We are not psychoanalysing me for the paper.”

 

“It could be such a delightful experience, Strider.  The imagery you create with your colorful language is nothing short of impressive.”

 

Eridan grew impatient with them.   _ “So. _  Wwe chose ColoUrs and Mayhem for club reading last fall.  Our discussions wwere wwell received in the club, but wwe started attracting new members that showwed up just to argue wwith us.”

 

“Thank you for getting us on task, Eridan,” Rose said.  “Were the new members affiliated with any other organizations?”

 

“Wwe didn't realize at first, but at least one of them wwas wwith the Lyrist student newspaper.  Others wwere from the Students Wwithout Borders org.”

 

Feferi said, “They meant well!  They really do a lot of good things on campus, but they disagree with the author of the book.  Very loudly.”

 

“Do you agree?”

 

Feferi waved her arms around, bangles jingling.  “We’re a book club!  As a whole, our porpoise isn't to agree or disagree.  We analyze.” ...Was that a pun?

 

“And what do you personally think?” Dave insisted.

 

“Calliope is a great author, and her writing is very insightful, but sometimes she can be a bit ideal.”

 

Eridan contradicted her, “Ms. English knowws her stuff.  Her wworks are masterpieces.  I wwould never say she's an idealist, not with howw well she addresses multiple sides of a story.”

 

“You wouldn't recognize idealism, would you?” Feferi seemed a bit ruffled, her cheery demeanor cracking.

 

“I still don't see any problem wwith joining you when you vvisit Sol.  You're supposed to be my best friend. Of course wwe spend time together.”

 

Feferi crossed her arms.  “You can't just crash a date whenever you feel like it.  That's rude and- and clingy!  And it makes us uncomfortable, right Sollux?”

 

Captor waved a hand dismissively without looking up.  “Nah, ED is cool.  We were just talking while I rigged my Gameboy anyways.”

 

Feferi groaned.  “Well that's not the point anyways.  Sometimes, I just need space, okay?”

 

Jade hissed to John, “Do something!”

 

“Uh, do you guys need a minute to talk?  We can wait outside or something,” John said.

 

“Oh, no worries!  Everything is just fine,” Feferi insisted.

 

“Wwell, I wwould like to talk.”

 

John hastily stood and pulled Jade with him.  “Of course!  Just tell us when you are ready.”  He waved frantically at his other teammates to join him.  

 

Last to the hallway, Rose shut the door behind them.  “Are you sure that was wise?  We may be able to facilitate their discussion.”

 

John disagreed, “Oh gosh, no.  Maybe  _ you’d _ have some advice for them, but I’ve never had a girlfriend before.  Do you realize how lame that is?  I’m old!”

 

“I am sure you’ll have some success in love endeavors eventually.  We are only freshmen, after all.”

 

“We?  You’ve never had a boyfriend either?”

 

Rose shrugged.  “I’ve never had the time or patience to look for someone suitable, though I would prefer a girlfriend myself.”  She waggled her brows at Jade, earning a round of laughs.

 

The merriment was cut off by shouts.  “Howw dare you?!”

 

“How dare me?  Me?!  You’re the worst!  I hate you!”

 

They went eerily quiet for a moment, then a loud boom shook the hall and resonated in John’s very bones.

 

“FF!”

 

Rose threw the door open and ran in.  The other three were right on her heel.  Feferi was crumpled on the ground, face frozen in horror.  A large hole ran through her gut.  The skin was charred.  Sollux knelt next to her, shaking her shoulder.  Eridan stood over them, pointing what looked an awful lot like a magic wand emitting smoke.  All three of them were drenched in blood spray.

 

Without hesitating, Rose jabbed Eridan in the solar plexus and wrested the wand from him.  Jade pulled Sollux away from the body and wrapped him in a hug, carefully covering his eyes.  John took Sollux’s place next to Feferi and listened for a pulse.  Hearing nothing, he stuffed his jacket in her wound in a futile attempt to stifle some of the bleeding.  Dave knelt on the other side and applied pressure to the jacket.  He closed his eyes, removed his glasses, and whispered something to Feferi.  John couldn’t hear it; his ears stung.

 

John pressed down on her chest once, twice, thirtieth in quick succession.  During the chest compressions, he bit his tongue in his desperation.  He tilted Feferi’s head back, pinched her nose, and breathed into her.  His tongue bled profusely; some of it spilled into her mouth.  Another thirty chest compressions.  Two more deep breaths.

 

Rose pinned Eridan to the floor.  Jade was on the phone with the police, frantically trying to explain the situation without letting go of Sollux.  Thirty and two.  Dave kept whispering, lids shut tight and hands firm on the wound, trying to stop the bloodflow.  John realized it was a prayer.  He regretted a little that he couldn’t echo Dave’s words and kept at the CPR. 30, 2.

 

When the EMT’s arrived, Jade and Rose had to pull John and Dave from Feferi, both of them still desperate to revive her.  They huddled together in silence.  John was surprised by the comfort their solidarity provided just by proximity.  In all his years, he’d never experienced anything like it.  They must be friends after all.  The best of friends.

 

Finding his voice, John cursed, “Damn it!  Why didn’t it take?”

 

Jade rubbed his back.  “You tried.  It’s okay.”

 

Having handed Eridan over to the police, Rose engaged Dave in a very similar conversation.  “I’m confident either of us would’ve done more if we could.”

 

“I know.”  Dave finally opened his eyes.  John’s breath caught all over again.  The boy’s eyes were a vivid scarlet, alight with the color like an apple skin.  It wasn’t just a reflection of the vessels at the back of his eyeballs.  His irises  _ were _ sanguine.

 

John watched, utterly fixated, as the other boy made eye contact with him.  Then, Dave’s eyes slid down and traced the blood on John’s chin and hands.  The pale boy started to drool.

 

  _..__.           .__.._

.^"-.._ '-(\\__/)-' _..-"^.   
          '-.' oo '.-'   
             `-..-' 

 

The following afternoon, the quartet met outside their Journalism instructor’s office.  They were all still shell shocked.  Solemn, John told them, “I sort of volunteer at the hospital.  They took her straight to the coroner.”

 

Rose shot Dave a weird look, then bowed her head.  “I suspected as much.”

 

Dave took the news a little more poorly.  “Shit!  I should’ve fixed her or prevented the attack in the first place.”

 

John watched as Jade pulled the other two into a group hug.  Rose deliberately leaned against Dave, again wearing a strange expression.

 

“Shh, shh.  It was a really freaky murder, and it’s all on that Ampora duchehair fuckface, okay?”

 

_ “What _ did you just say?”  Oh, there's the instructor now.  Evidently, he was not in his office.

 

Jade shrunk in on herself a bit and let go of her friends.  “...duchehair fuckface?”

 

“Like water to my parched hear ducts.”

 

“Sorry?”  Jade was dazed.

 

The instructor explained while struggling with his lock.  “I may have had a problem with offensive language when I started teaching last year.  After a few of my more derisive slips in class were reported, I received a rather threatening missive from the board in my department.  I was forced to cut the habit cold thankfulbird.  It’s been too many months since I've heard as colorful a curse as that.  Most of the students-”  The instructor looked pointedly at Dave.  “-crudely fire f-bombs at will.”

 

His name was… McKartney?  No, that was completely wrong.  John really should've asked one of the others before now.  Or paid attention during introductions the first day.

 

“These days, I’m in the habit of inventing my own expletives, as you’ve noticed if you listen to a word I say in class.  I realize I come off as the slime coating the inside of my gallsphincter because of it, but I don’t see any real reason to keep up a persona cleaner than my actual character.”  After kicking it once, the instructor finally got his door open.  “Come in.  Sit down.  Or not.  I only have two chairs.”  He opted to lounge on top of his desk and rolled his own chair over to them with a foot.

 

Though a common gesture, John couldn’t help but think of Feferi as he took it.  Even in the short time he knew her, the girl was clearly an innocent person.  Her wound was awful, but  _ why didn’t John’s attempt to revive her take? _  It wasn’t fair.

 

Jade took the other spot and Rose lounged on her armrest, saying, “Professor Vantas, sir.  We need an extension on the project.”

 

The instructor nodded.  “Karkat is fine, if not Mr. Vantas.  I’m still a grad student; I haven’t earned prof status.”

 

“Karkat!”  Everyone looked at John.  Hastily, he explained, “I thought people were calling you Carrot.  I didn’t realize that was actually your name.”

 

Karkat rubbed his face and mumbled, “...Don’t react, Vantas… Don’t react.”  After a moment to collect himself, he turned to Rose.  “An extension.  That’s fair, given the situation.  I’m very sorry to hear about what happened.  I can’t even imagine how I’d cope if I witnessed it, though there’d likely be a few nights of heavy soporifics involved.  Where any of you close to Feferi?”

 

“Only knew her for fifteen minutes.”  Judging from his cadence, Dave regretted the loss nonetheless.

 

“A shame.  She was the type to befriend everyone unless crossed.  Admittedly, I was rooting for her when she booted my coworkers right in the bulge.  Not that I have much knowledge about the whole ColoUrs and Mayhem incident.”

 

Rose nodded.  “Perhaps in another life, she is willing to endure my disarming personality, and we’d be the best of chums.”

 

“Do you know how much of an extension you will need?”

 

“We got started pretty early, and we still have some time left.”  Jade squinted as she made an estimate.  “One week?  Two if you want a project of the quality we were hoping to give.”

 

“Why so long?” Karkat questioned.

 

John answered, “We didn’t finish our interview, and now we don’t have enough information to couple with our thesis.  We thought it would be a little rude to bother the other Lit. Club members right now, especially after everything, so we’re going to start over with a brand-new topic.”

 

Karkat laid down on his desk and stuck a foot on top of his computer tower.  Sure.  It was his office, John supposed.  The instructor asked, “Is the research you’ve done specific to the Literature students, or does it apply in general?”

 

“Much of our work so far is geared toward a small organization running a successful campaign against both numerical odds and unpopular reasoning at both the rhetorical level and the psychological level.  We also compiled historical examples for comparison,” Rose summed.

 

Karkat blinked at her and sat back up.  “You're joking.  90% of the class is going to report on their favorite class, one of the collegiate sporting events, or some other bugwinged bile threaded with unscholarly sentiment that should've been left in the dross coffer.”

 

John started laughing.  “Pfff.  Bugwinged bile.  Why would anyone report you?  You're hilarious.”

 

“At least someone appreciates the value of wordplay.  Are the four of you still interested in the topic itself, or would you prefer to avoid it after everything?”

 

“It's interesting enough,” Dave admitted.

 

Rose added, “As I said, we’ve only dropped the topic out of respect for the other Literature Club members.”

 

“I’d hate to make you all start over.  It’d eschew some of the requirements, and segueing into the second part of the project will be a little difficult, but you are welcome to keep the thesis and make it theoretical if you can’t work with it to apply to another student org.”

 

“Pardon, I’m not aware of any other organizations that fit the description, sir.”

 

Karkat smirked at her.  “There might be one that  _ better _ fits the description.”

 

“Oh?  Do tell.”

 

“CAFC took a case all the way to the State two years ago.  I daresay their platform contradicted popular opinion in both common rhetoric and psychology.”

 

Rose’s smile was a bit unsettling.  “That’s quite a claim.”

 

“The club convinced the U.S. court system to recognize the rights of people that don’t exist.”

 

  _..__.           .__.._

.^"-.._ '-(\\__/)-' _..-"^.   
          '-.' oo '.-'   
             `-..-' 

              " ` "

 

John glanced up at his Calculus 3 professor on occasion, though most of his attention was on a doodle in his song book and his thoughts.  Sometimes, he jotted down actual notes.  For the most part, crudely drawn ghosts darted between staffs.  His thoughts wandered.  There was no way Karkat was referring to the same case John was familiar with... 

 

A knock on the door got his attention.  The professor ignored it at first.  When the knock became more insistent, she pointed at the closest students, “Mind getting that quick?”

 

A boy wearing a stip of fabric just barely passing for shorts stood.  After opening the door, he called, “Hey, Professor?  This might be important.”

 

Two police officers pushed past the boy and approached the front of the room.  “Good morning, sir, ma’am.  Can I help you with something?” the professor asked.

 

They exchanged a few hushed words.  The professor nodded to them, face dark, and walked over to the students.  She stopped in front of John.  “Mr. Egbert, would you mind joining them in the hall for a little bit?”

 

John set aside his songbook and started toward the aisle.  “Of course.”

 

“Mr. Egbert, please bring your things with you.”

 

Frowning, John gathered everything and slung his backpack over his shoulder.  Outside the lecture hall, John offered the two a handshake.  “Good morning, officers.  I presume you are aware I am John Egbert?  Thank you for coming all the way out here.  If you needed another statement about Feferi, you were welcome to call.  I’d have been completely willing to drop by the station.  I’m not too busy.”

 

The woman grimaced at him.  “Mr. Egbert, we’re going to need a little more than a statement.  You’re currently under suspicion for homicide and accessory to homicide.”

 

“Oh.”  John’s hand dropped.  “This is about Feferi, right?  Am I being arrested?  I’ve never been arrested before.  Should I give you my ID or-”

 

“Calm down, son.  If you didn’t do anything, you have nothing to worry about.  We just need you to come with us for now.”

 

John was quiet the whole way to the station.  He focused on not forgetting to breathe.  Since he cooperated through the police statements and his escort, he wasn’t cuffed, though his jacket and backpack were taken.  He rubbed his hands together so they wouldn’t get cold.  It was a bit of a futile effort.

 

He sat around for an hour waiting for the family company to send a criminal defense attorney.  Then came the questions.  By the fifth time he was asked what killed Feferi, he was tempted to cry.  Once again, he gave the same answer.  “I didn’t see the actual murder.  The wound was weird, like a concentrated blast from a shaped incendiary.  Eridan would’ve had seconds to set up an explosive  _ on her chest _ without Sollux or Feferi resisting.  No one was restrained when we came in.  All he was holding that I saw was some kind of magic wand prop.  I was  _ trying to save her life,  _ so I wasn’t looking too closely, but I didn’t see any shrapnel or anything.  I honestly don’t know how he did it.  Unless he actually magicked her dead.”

 

This interrogator gave a different response than the other two.  “That’s what the coroner said.  Until we find the leftovers from the incendiaries, we have to hold you a bit longer.  One of you five took them home, and you saw who.  You said yourself you were there the entire time from the explosion to the arrival of first responders.”

 

“...Oh man, I have to stay longer?  Like the full three days?”

 

“If nothing else turns up and none of you admit to anything, that may be necessary.”

 

John made sure to tone back his reaction.  Three days was Bad.  “Oh, okay.  Please let me know if there’s any other way I can help.”

 

“Of course.  Thank you for your cooperation.”


	2. 1

Fifty six hours in police custody, another sixteen from his last dose, and John wasn’t sure if he’d make it to seventy two.  He refused to look anyone in the eye, including his own attorney, and snapped when anyone spoke to him.  He knew he was supposed to be polite to the police, especially since they were trying to get justice for Feferi.  It was hard to remember when he was focused on stilling his hands, and they asked him the same questions _again._

 

He was back with the first interrogator.  “John, you keep telling me you didn’t see Feferi’s murder, but we have your friends in custody.  They said you were in the room at the time.  We need to know what happened, alright?  Where did the murder weapon go?”

 

John tapped out a tune on the table.  “Don’t lie.  You get louder when you lie.  I can hear it.  It’s _so distracting, I can’t take it anymore.”_

 

“I’m not lying, John.”

 

“Fuck off!  I can _hear it,_ officer.  Please.  Just go away so I can’t hear you anymore.  Send in your lover.  She’s not as loud.  I’ll beg if I have to.”

 

“We- we are coworkers.  You were very polite two days ago, John.  Are you worried about the things your friends told us?”

 

“You smell like her, officer, _and I can’t take it.”_  Without warning, his body jerked in a dry retch.  The officer handed him a trash can.  Three dry heaves later, John relieved himself of his breakfast.  Given a glass of water, his body rejected that too.  He was no longer able to still his shaking hands and scratched at the table.  Fuck, he was out of time.

 

The lover joined the first interrogator.   _No,_ John didn’t want both of them so close.  “John, are you suffering from withdrawal?  Do you have some kind of addiction?”

 

He nodded and hissed with his remaining breath, “Benzodiazepine.”  He refused to answer anything else they said, legal or not.

 

John was sent back to rest.  He could only growl at anyone that approached him and hope the police would give him tranqs.  After an hour of near constant dry heaves, an officer- not one of his interrogators- asked if he needed medical attention.  He could only nod.

 

The trip to the hospital was short.  He was led in cuffed, his vitals were checked and checked again when the machine broke, then he was given a shot.  Of Midazolam instead of a slow acting tranquilizer.  Fuck.  John weighed his options during the drive back, but he lost his train of thought when the medicine started to kick in.

 

Instead of his previous room, John was led to the same holding cell as Dave and two other men.  “Daaaave.  Have I ever told you how pretty you are?”

 

“Are you on drugs, Egbert?”

 

“Hehe, maaaaybe.  I got a big shot from the nice doctor policeman, but it wasn’t the one I wanted.  What do I do now, Dave?”  John swayed on his feet.

 

“You need to lay down.  That’s what you do.  Now.”  When John just stared, Dave bodily led him to a bunk.

 

“You smell super, super good right now.  Not fair.”

 

“Fuck, you’re cold.  Yo, Barney!” Dave called over his shoulder.  “My friend is the same temp as the room after he cracks a joke.  We need more blankets or he is going to freeze to death.  No joke.”  John was too loopy to notice Dave’s agitation.  His friend was off key and downright ravenous.

 

“Heeee, good one, Dave.”  He passed out.

 

In spite of the amenities, John woke up feeling quite refreshed.  He yawned and stretched.  His head was a bit fuzzy, and his ears prickled.  After a moment groping around for memories, he recalled going to the hospital.  Everything afterward was a blank, but his body seemed to be in order.  Apparently, the Midazolam did the trick after all.

 

John noticed a few pale fingers hanging down from the bunk above him.  “Dave?  Is that you?”  No answer.  He hit the bunk.

 

Dave groaned.  “Wha time ss it?”

 

“You tell me, man.  You’re the one wearing a watch.”

 

The bunk groaned as Dave shifted.  His hand disappeared.  “8 AM.  It’s so fucking late.  I’m usually up at five.  I feel awful, Egbert, like a Tampa swamp in here. Muggy, insects buzzing in my head, and my legs have turned to mush. I want to get up and just _run,_ but we’re stuck in this stupid cell, and I don’t have my other clothes.  At least I'm not hungry anymore.”

 

John rubbed his head.  “How could you possibly drag your butt out of bed at five in the morning?  Why?  That is unholy.”

 

“To run.  Early morning marathon.”

 

“Every day?”

 

“Every day.”

 

“You’re insane, Dave.”

 

“I know.”

 

“...Not really, though.  I still can’t believe they think we killed someone!  It’s so stupid,” John commented.  “Rose is pretty scary, but you and Jade are teddy bears.  Who’d even believe you’re murderers?”

 

Dave hesitated for a moment.  “Yep.  Jade and I are soft as the cotton stuffed in a bear, the lifeblood of your childhood friend, willfully given.  And the lifeblood of cotton slaves, forcefully taken.”

 

“Wow, that was so unconvincing.  It’s no wonder they haven’t let us out yet if you sound like that when you talk to the police.”

 

“Shut up.  I get nervous when-” Dave cut himself off.

 

John peaked over the top bunk at Dave.  “When what?”

 

“...I suck at lying, okay?”

 

“Are you saying you’ve actually killed someone?”

 

“...No.”

 

“Oh shit, Dave, why?  Why did you do it?”

 

“Shut up, Egbert.”

 

“What was their name?  You didn’t even know, did you?  That’s so cruel, man.”

 

Dave hit him with a sock.  John danced away, still taunting him.  He wasn’t paying attention and bumped into the other set of beds.  “Oh, sorry, buddy!”  John got a better look at the guy laying on the lower bunk.  “Hey.  Hey, buddy?  Are you okay?”

 

John was hit with another wave of nausea when he realized it and took an involuntary step back.  “I don't think he's breathing.”

 

“Quit screwing with me.”

 

“He’s not breathing!”  Realizing John was serious, the pale boy jumped down and hurried over.  His face was dark, and he didn’t say anything.  They stood in silence as a medic rushed in.

 

The clock neared 10 on the fourth morning, and John was perfectly ready to leave when his attorney informed him that his little trip to the hospital cost him another 24 hours.  The interrogators had to release their other suspects, so John had all their attention.

 

Though disturbed by the body found in the cell, overall, he felt better.  He was back to cordial patience, answering the same questions and politely ignoring any false tales thrown at him.

 

(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

 

Finally, fresh air and freedom.  John gave a big whoop and a little skip as he stepped out of the station.  His attorney escorted him to the property clerk’s office to trade a voucher for his cell phone.  Back at his apartment, the first thing he did was plug in the device and throw in Pokémon 4ever.  Turning the volume up, he left the bathroom door open and hopped in the shower.

 

The movie was half over by the time he emerged.  He was reluctant to pick up his cell when he plopped down on the couch.  Sighing, he turned it on.  Over a hundred new messages.  The majority were from Crockercorps, but nearly a quarter were from his three new friends alone.

 

John tapped the photo of Jade’s rabid samoyed Beq taken by her grandfather.  He had yet to see the dog himself.  It was kept locked up when Jade hosted for movies.  However, she was very adamant that if any of them encountered it and she wasn’t around, turn tail and run.  No exceptions, regardless of the emergency.  Dave asked why she didn’t take the hellbeast out back and shoot it.  She just shook her head sadly.

 

Jade picked up the phone on the first ring.  “Oh my gosh, John!  Where have you been?”

 

“I was detained.  They said you guys were too?  I saw Dave.”

 

“Yeah.  They let all five of us out at the same time.  I totally panicked when I didn't see you!  I’m so sorry you were the only one charged.  It’s not fair!”

 

“I wasn't charged.  I got sick and had to go to the hospital, so they kept me longer.  That’s all.”

 

“Oh gosh, is that what happened?  Are you alright?  Dave said you were super loopy when he ran into you.  And you were on drugs?”

 

“I’m fine.  Just withdrawal.”

 

“Withdrawal.  John.  Didn't your father ever tell you drugs are bad?”

 

“...Opposite of that.  Smoking was part of his image.”

 

“That’s dumb.  John, you need to take care of yourself.”

“I do!”

 

“If you had to go to the hospital because of drugs, you aren’t doing good enough, mister.”

 

“I would’ve been fine if it were just one day.”

 

“Am I going to have to come over there and dig up your stash?  I’ll recruit Rose.  Or one of our new lit. club buddies.”

 

“Quit worrying.  Wait.  Did you say all five of you before?  Jade, Rose, Dave, Sollux,” John counted off.  “They let Eridan out, too?  That motherfu-”

 

Jade contradicted him.  “Eridan stood up for us- defended his friend Sollux.  Fessed up.  Told them it was all him.  It backfired, and they assumed he was covering for us.”

 

“No way.”

 

“Rose is crazy good at reverse interrogation and figured it out.  Since Eridan insisted he killed Feferi with magic and they didn't have a murder weapon or any probable cause of death, they couldn't qualify it as an admission of guilt.  As far as the police are concerned, we all are either really terrible at lying or Feferi spontaneously combusted.  There’s nothing to charge any of us with.”

 

“I take back any previous doubts.  Between Rose and Dave, I’d suspect us, too.”

 

“If you think Dave is bad, you should meet his brother!”

 

“Oh man, I missed the older Strider?  Did he come to pick up Dave?”

 

“Yes, literally.  He showed with nothing but a loincloth, straw sandals, and a sword, flirted with my _grandpa,_ threatened to sue the police, made fun of Rose’s mom for being drunk before 10 AM, and fireman-carried Dave all the way back to his apartment.  That's like twelve miles.”

 

“Wow.”

 

“It was so embarrassing!” Jade whined.

 

“For Dave.  I would’ve laughed my butt off.”

 

“For _me._  My grandpa wrote his number on Strider’s abs.”

 

“Oh my g-”  John cut off laughing.  “This isn’t real life.  I'm so upset I missed it.”

 

“Ugh, I doubt he plans on telling Strider how old he is.  Should I say something?”

 

John weighed his words carefully.  “That… depends on how young he looks.”

 

“Not a day past thirty, the lucky duck.”

 

“Then if he has some kind of… problem.  I don’t think that’s a great idea to point it out.”

 

Jade dropped her voice, suddenly serious.  “What kind of problem do you mean?”

 

Forgetting he was using a phone, John shrugged.  “I don’t actually know.  Just that you kick my butt when we wrestle and are ‘inhumanly’ strong.”

 

“...I think I have to go.”  Jade hung up on him without waiting for a valediction.  He tried to contact her again, but she denied the call.

 

John facepalmed.  That could’ve gone better.  At least Jade knew he wasn’t rotting in jail.  Maybe he should just meet Rose and Dave in person.  Two more phone calls ending like that, and he might just give up on people for another few years.

 

He shot them a message.   _meet me at nannaquin’s? don’t really feel like texting._  He received two confirmations before he could lock his phone.  John was the first to the café, but he only had enough time to answer a couple of his emails before Dave ran in.  It wasn’t precisely a lie if he told his associates he was indisposed in the hospital and couldn’t get back to them.

 

“Egbert!”  Dave clapped his shoulder in greeting.

 

“Hey, man.”

 

Suddenly hit by another wave of nausea, John examined the grain of the table under his coffee mug.  Dave was right by his side for both Feferi and the incident in the cell.  What if the pale boy was one of the victims?  Not to mention Jade and Rose could be at risk in the future, especially if Eridan held any kind of anger toward them over what happened.  John was reasonably sure Rose snapped his wand in half, but that wouldn’t stop a real sociopath.  Especially if it wasn't the actual murder weapon.

 

Dave let him brood while ordering a hot chocolate.  Nannaquin’s was a favorite haunt of theirs since Dave could consume most of the non caffeinated items on the menu.  Cocoa in hand, the other boy returned to their booth in the corner, farthest from the window.  “Quite the long face.  Fill me in.”

 

John explained the same thing he did to Jade.  No point in waiting for Rose since she’d pick up all the necessary context and then some within thirty seconds of looking at him.  “...oh, and then I talked to Jade, and I think I freaked her out!  I don't know what to do.”

 

“Unless she’s feeling useless, that girl is unperturbed.  The fuck did you do?”

 

“I just mentioned something I’m not supposed to know?”

 

“That was stupid.  Planning on filling me in?”

 

“I don’t even know what it is, though.  Just that it’s a touchy subject for her.”

 

Dave took a sip of cocoa.  “So don’t bring it up, dipshit.”

 

“But sometimes I think she needs advice, some support, or even just a hug!”

 

“You think everyone needs a hug.”

 

“Hhk- Do not.  I know for a fact that I haven’t given a single person a hug since I met you three.”

 

“But you want to.  You’re counting how long it’s been since you’ve given someone a hug.  Who does that?”

 

John finally looked up from his coffee.  No longer on tranqs or occupied by a dead body, he finally noticed how disheveled Dave was.  Bruise-like coloring peaked out from underneath his shades, marring his snowy face.  “Hey, are you okay?”

 

“No.”

 

“...and?”

 

“Tried not to eat the whole time I was locked up.”

 

“Dave!  Do we need to have the same conversation I had with Jade?  You have to take care of yourself, and I will gather up the crowd and storm your apartment if you don’t.”

 

“It was only three days, and the jail’s options weren’t to my needs.  I’m already weak enough after missing the morning routine.  Breaking my vows on top of that… I’m not okay, Egbert.”

 

“I don’t really get it, but let me know if you need anything.  Seriously, anything.  You’d rather ask me than have Rose and Jade lay siege to your home.”

 

“The joke is on you.  Nothing to lay siege on.  Just got an eviction notice from my landlord.  Tenants with murder accusations aren’t the most popular.”

 

“He can’t do that!  None of us were charged let alone convicted.”

 

“I know.  Now, my Bro is suing the station for breaking the First Amendment and my former landlord for violating our lease.  Bit of a clusterfuck.”

 

John gasped, both hands over his mouth.  “Oh my gosh, are you homeless now?”

 

“Yeah.  Actually, if I could store my turntables at your place for a few days-”

 

“Absolutely!  Stay as long as you want.”

 

“I wasn’t asking-”

 

“Where are you planning on living then?”

 

“Buy a tent.  Hobo it up on the mountain.  Live even more simply to make up for everything at the station.”

 

“None of that was your fault, though!  Stay with me.”  John leaned forward and grinned to make it obvious how exciting the idea was.

 

“Oh no.  Do not give me the puppy dog eyes.  That is my kryptonite, you heinous villain.”

 

John added, “I will stock the fridge.  If you watch movies with me!”

 

“You drive a hard bargain.  If it’s a choice between Nic Cage and starving, I may starve.”

 

“If that’s a yes, I’ll take it.”

 

“Shit, it was.  Can I take it back?”

 

“Nope!”

 

Dave shook his head, and his lip turned up slightly.  “You move fast, Egbert.  You only made your intentions clear two days ago.”

 

It took a moment for it to click for John.  “Oh nooo.  Did I say something embarrassing while I was tranq’d?”

 

“Nothing I wouldn’t like to hear when you’re aware of what you’re saying.”

 

“Oh.”  John blushed and his thoughts flew out the skylight.  “Umm.  Oh, right!  Some important ground rules.  Even if we get in a fight over something, don’t even think twice about it.  You can still stay.  Unless I’m _very_ angry; then it’s better if you stay somewhere else and hope I don’t show up for class.”

Dave chuckled.  “Do you even get angry?  That one asshat threw an orange at you and called you a loser, and you just laughed.  I was pissed _for_ you.”

 

“But that was super funny!  He was trying to impress a girl, and she just thought he was a jerk acting like a preschooler.  Anyways.  If I’m angry, drunk, high, tranq’d, or otherwise drugged for any reason, spend the night out.  This is important.”

 

“I’d be an awful roommate if I ollied out the minute you need someone to take care of your drunk ass.”

 

 _“No._  If you can’t agree to this, you’ll have to ask Jade or Rose to stay with them instead.”  He added, “As if any of us would let you be a hobo.”

 

“I can probably make that work then.  Roommates.”

 

“Yay!  If you have time, we can go get your things after this.  I need an excuse to put off cleaning my email queue anyways.”

 

“Sounds nice.  My turntable setup is pretty heavy, though.”

 

“I’ll message Jade!”   _ME: SOS. dave homeless, needs help moving his stuff. we’re at nannaquin’s. sorry about earlier._

 

“Thanks.”  Dave twiddled with his mug.  “You should know- I was really impressed with how you responded to what happened to Feferi.  Trying to save her and all that.  Even though things didn't look too hot for her.  I’m not great at all of this, and I wasn’t sure before, but I really like-”

 

“Strider.”

 

Dave nearly fell out of his seat when Rose greeted him.  She leaned toward him, and a twisted expression flitted across her face before she planted herself in the booth next to John.

 

“Hi Rose!” John greeted.

 

She returned his cordial smile.  “Afternoon, John.  I trust this fine Saturday is treating you fairly?”

 

“Can Saturdays be fair?  Maybe Tuesdays are.”

 

“You are welcome to personify the days of the week however you see fit.  Personally, I was referencing your evident release.”

 

Dave groaned.  “Lalonde, you interrupted a moment.”

 

“I’m aware.  Wouldn’t want you to overstep your bounds.”

 

“What the actual fuck are you implying?”

 

“That you ought to be gentle with our good friend John.  I would be very displeased if he were to come to any harm.”  The young woman’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, grating like sands against marble.  “If anything happens to him, I haven't any choice but to kill you.”  She straightened and winked, cheer back in her eyes.  “Best of luck in your pursuits otherwise.”

 

Silence descended over them, colder than the tundra.

 

“...Rose?”

 

“Yes, John?”

 

“That was really creepy.”

 

“As I intended it.  How are you recovering from your little episode Dave mentioned?”

 

“I was fine after the Midazolam wore off.  Was.  Now, I’m thoroughly spooked.”

 

“Whatever for?  My antagonism was not directed your way.”

 

John twiddled his thumbs, looking for a way to put it.  “Murderous intent is just as spooky when directed at a friend from another friend.  Thus, I am spooked.”

 

Jade chose that moment to message back.   _JD: almost there_

 

_still at nannaquin’s?_

 

_ME: yup._

 

Dave picked up the gap in conversation.  “You liked me enough a week ago, Lalonde.  What gives?”

 

Rose’s eyebrow shot up.  “I still like you.  You’ve become a dear friend to me, Mr. Strider.  In a month, no less.  However, so have Mr. Egbert and Ms. Harley.”

 

“I feel the same on all accounts.   _All_ of the feelings,” Dave returned with a hiss, “and I appreciate that you’re trying to protect him.”

 

Rose grinned.  “That's what I like to hear.  Aggressive overtures add a nice spice to my tea.”

 

“This is turning into Eridan and Feferi _really quickly,_ so please stop,” John begged.

 

The bell over the door tinkled.  Jade dashed in, panting.  “Dave!  I came as soon as I could.  You're homeless now?!  That's so sad!”  Jade squeezed him.

 

“Can't breathe.”  Dave tapped her back rapidly.  “Sup, Jade.  No need to shed any glistening tears over me.  John offered his humble abode to me for now.”

 

Rose stood abruptly.  “I need to fix my makeup.  John, why don't you help me?”

 

“Wha-?”  Rose dragged him by his arm to the ladies room.  “Hey, I can't go in here.”

 

“If this was the type of establishment to bar you from choosing your restroom, we wouldn't be here.  Don't worry about it.”  When the door was shut behind them, Rose turned to John and grabbed both of his shoulders.  He couldn't escape eye contact.  “Tell me exactly what you said to him when you invited him over.  This is very important.”

 

A lick of fear curled around John’s gut.  “Stay with me.  Stay as long as you want.”

 

Rose bit her lip.  “An open invitation, ignoring both location and time.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“Dave is a vampire, and he can now follow you no matter where you are.”

 

John took a step back.  “That's preposterous!  A vampire?”

 

“This is a very real danger that I need you to take seriously.  We both saw how Dave reacted to blood.  I was still holding out hope until the man was found in your cell.  He died of acute heart failure resulting from hypotension.  Blood loss, but no blood.”

 

His stomach sunk.  “How do you know that?”

 

“I watch the coronary records for signs of supernatural death.  You can think of me as a private investigator.  Here, this is a viable weapon for slaying the undead.”  Rose pulled a tube of green lipstick from her purse.  “Twist it clockwise to apply, deasil to wield.”

 

Rose demonstrated.  The tube expanded into a chainsaw before John’s eyes.  He took another step back.  “How did you do that?”

 

“I'm a magus.  I used alchemy to bind one object to another.”

 

John carefully took the lipstick and pocketed it.  “When you say you're an investigator…”

 

“I hunt all things inhuman.  If you run into a spot of trouble aside from the current one, please message me immediately.  I'm very capable.”

 

“Things like vampires?  Even if Dave is actually something like that, he wouldn't hurt me.  He's Dave!”

 

“You haven't known him all that long, John.  Besides, vampires are extremely viscous and territorial.  Once they claim prey, they don't let go.  You’ve made yourself a target.  It can't be undone.  I'll have to kill him.”

 

“No!”

 

“I know this is hard to hear, and I'm very sorry-”

 

“Prove he's a vampire first.  I don't believe he killed the guy in the cell.  I was drugged at the time, so I don't actually know what happened, but it couldn't have been Dave.  I _know_ it.”

 

“Letting a vampire live would be irresponsible of me.  All the evidence suggests-”

 

“No, it doesn't!  Maybe some of that other stuff is suspicious, but Dave isn’t viscous or territorial.  I really, really doubt he's what you're saying.  If he is, he might be something else, like a strix.”

 

That gave Rose pause.  “Pardon?  A strix?”

 

“It’s an old legend.  Striges feed off of blood, but they have feathers that spread love.  They’re related to owls and crows.  Don't you think if Dave tries to be something like that, he deserves to live?”

 

Rose stared at him, perturbed.  “No...?”  She clutched her head.  “A creature that spreads love.”

 

**This child speaks lies.**

 

Rose’s scent changed subtly.  A wave of brine, rotting grapes, and something John couldn't comprehend rolled over him.  “Rose?  Are you okay?”  He coughed into his sleeve.

 

**Blasphemer.  GIVE HIM TO US.**

 

Rose yelled, “How dare you suggest that!”

 

John flinched back from her.  “I'm sorry.  I just thought.  Maybe.  Maybe he’s still an okay guy?”

 

The smell became weaker.  Voice level again, Rose told him, “You’re absolutely right, John.  I wasn’t thinking clearly.  After that little stunt of mine, I doubt Strider will let me close enough to get proof.  You’ll have to do it.  Is the risk something you’re able to accept?  It’s very likely you’ll be put under a spell day one.”

 

“Of course!  It’s for Dave’s sake.  Besides, I can handle myself, especially now that I'm armed.  What kind of proof are you looking for?”

 

Rose dug into her purse and pulled out a contact mirror.  She offered it to John.  “You just need to see if he has a reflection.”

 

John burst out laughing and tapped the bathroom mirrors.  His reflection tapped him back.  “Rose!  There’s no way that’s not a myth.  What kind of superpower would passively bend light?”

 

“This is a rare artifact I’m trusting you with.  It doesn’t reflect light.  It reflects souls.  A fair warning, it can be rather disturbing to look at the true form of your own soul.  I recommend against it.”

 

John took the compact reverently.  “Wow.  If it’s that rare, do you have any more of these?”

 

“No.  I’d appreciate it if you don’t break it.”

 

It was with a sick feeling in his gut and knees of gelatin that John rejoined Dave and Jade.  They all carefully avoided exposing the tension to the other girl.  Likewise, Jade didn’t bring up John’s earlier comment.

 

After coffee, they headed over to Dave’s apartment.  Dave assumed all four of them would carry the turntable set, then come back for the meager remainder of his belongings.  However, John and Jade had no trouble with it between them, and Rose likewise juggled the three smaller boxes easily.  That left Dave with one long, heavy box, and the whole ordeal only took a single trip.

 

Before deigning to leave, Rose instructed John, “Find an opportunity to check his reflection _tonight._  If I don’t receive a text by midnight, I’m coming back.”  Around 8 PM, the girls finally excused themselves.

 

“Hey, Dave, do you want anything to drink?”

 

“No, thank you.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

 

“Okay, what do you want?”

 

“Nothing alcoholic.  Water is fine.”

 

“Cool, I'm making strawberry banana smoothies!”

 

John skipped over to his kitchen to cut fruit.  The apartment only had one bedroom, but the living room was large enough to easily accommodate the turntables and his piano, and his sofa was more comfortable than his bed.  Dave made sure to tell him as much at least four times.

 

“Thanks again for everything, bro.”

 

“No problem!  I’m not supposed to sublease, but who cares?  It’ll be fun while you’re here.”  The conversation paused while the blender was on.  Then, John grabbed a pair of cups.  

 

“So why the fuck do you have four ovens in there?”

 

“I like to bake!”

 

“That's a _lot_ of baking.  Whatever.  If I’m eating it, I can't complain.”

 

John poured the smoothies and emerged from the kitchen.  “Hey, sorry about everything Rose said.”

 

“It’s not your fault.”

“...She explained in the bathroom.  She actually thinks you’re a vampire!  She’s crazy.”

Dave frowned, thoughtful.  “I don’t think she is, though.  Some things you aren't expecting might be real, John.”

 

John proffered a smoothie.  “Sure.  But you’re not one!   _That’s_ the crazy part.”

“That’s a light reaction to a world shattering revelation.  Thanks for the vote of confidence?  Also, this smoothie is ~#%^”

 

John ignored the word he didn't catch.  “Of course.  Would you want to be a vampire?”

 

Dave didn’t hesitate.  “In a heartbeat.”

 

“Heh.”  John plopped down on the couch.  “Movie time!”

 

“Already?”

 

“Please!  I’ll let you pick the movie.”

 

“I can’t argue with that.”  Dave grabbed a disk without even looking.  He realized what it was when he popped it in.  “Why on this sweet, sweet Earth do you own a copy of The Proposal?”

 

“We’ve been over this.  The lead actor is…”  John trailed off when Dave set his glasses on the end table and plopped down right next to the other.

 

“Yes?”  Dave sipped at his smoothie.

 

Suffice to say, John was not paying attention to the opening credits.  “You don’t actually care, do you?”

 

“Not really, but you’re cute when you get excited.”

John grinned sheepishly.  “...You might really like this movie.  It’s so funny.”

 

“We’ll judge on whether I puke halfway through.”

 

“Rude!”  John sighed and took out his phone.  So many emails, so little time.  And what the fuck did General Mills want this time?

 

Dave nudged him partway through the film.  “Hey, you’re going to miss the best part; Grandma’s sick voodoo moves.”

 

John set aside his phone.  He got enough work done.  “Have you seen this movie before?”

 

“I admit to nothing.”  Dave carefully leaned over and rested his head on John’s shoulder.  His eyelids fluttered half closed.

 

John didn’t try to stop himself from staring.  He was going to have dreams about blood red, crescent eyes ringed by frosty lashes.  It made something in his gut twinge with longing and fear.

 

A few scenes later, John grabbed the remote and turned the volume down.  “Dave?”

 

“Sup?”

 

“I was thinking about Feferi.  Anyone else would’ve given her up as dead the moment they saw the wound, but you were right there next to me, trying to stop the bleeding.”

 

“Can’t just sit back and let someone die.”

 

John explained, “I think so too.  What really impressed me was the way you prayed to her.  I don’t know what you said, but you were so hopeful.  You really believed it, and that’s not something I could ever do.”

 

“Sure you can, you dork.  You kept up CPR for fifteen minutes.  You must’ve had _some_ hope.”

 

“Maybe.”  John stared up at the ceiling and thought about his gifts from Rose.  He considered her threats and weighed the risks she illuminated.  Deciding, he took the compact mirror and tube of lipstick from his pocket and set them on the end table.  He gave them a little push, so they slid out of reach.  His glasses and cell phone landed next to them.  He rested a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

 

Dave looked up at him, eyebrow quirked.  “Getting comfortable?”

 

“Mhmm.”  John couldn’t see the movie without his glasses.  His eyes were on Dave anyways.

 

“Do you even realize how much you’re tempting me right now, Egbert?  Gonna get someone killed with those looks of yours.”

 

“Pfff.  I have a reputation as a temptress.  That is why I get oranges thrown at me.”  John slid his other arm around Dave’s front.

 

“Dude was blind.  Nothing more to it.  He oughta drop dead from the raw guilt of insulting the prettiest guy on campus.”

 

“Do you even own a mirror?”

 

Dave chuckled.  “A cliched rebuttal if I've ever heard one.  The answer is no.  I only have four boxes of shit, and it's virtually all essentials.  Living the humble, material free, lifestyle, yo.”

 

“Allow me to enlighten you, then.”  John gently pushed on Dave’s shoulders.  When the pale boy didn’t resist, John lowered him to the couch and ran fingers across his scalp.  “Your hair looks like buttercream.  It’s so pure and fluffy and soft.”

 

“Oh?”

 

John rested his knees on either side of Dave’s hips.  He hooked his feet around the other boy’s ankles.  He guided Dave’s hands so they were folded above that head of frosting-like hair and held onto Dave’s wrists.  “Your skin is beautiful, how it glows.  In contrast, your lips look like fire to ice.”

 

“Goofy nerd that you are during the day, I had no idea you were so charming at night, Egbert.  Or so forward.”

 

“I have a _little_ experience at this.”  John leaned closer and took a deep breath through his nose.  “Mmm, my whole apartment is going to fill up with your scent.  Like apple blossoms, sweat, feathers, mountain blooms, and ants.  It’s so wild; I’ve never experienced anything like it.  Do you understand how much I’ve wanted you since day one?  Even before I learned you’re a great person.   _You just smell so delicious.”_

 

John pressed their lips together gently, as though the other were as fragile as a snowflake.

 

Dave shivered.  He said into the kiss, “You have ice cream for lips.”

 

“I've been this cold since I died.”

 

With dawning horror, Dave gave an experimental tug on his wrists and ankles.  They didn't move.  His heart rate doubled, singing in John’s ears.  Dave was pinned.  “Oh, fuck.”

 

John bit him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one ever said summaries can't be red herrings.
> 
> Reactions?


	3. In which the already-haphazard pacing is broken up by an entirety of four phone calls in 6000 words, our male leads attempt to play the classic game of catch with a series of ultimata, and the female cast is again left with a sparing level of development.

John leaned forward, pressing all of his weight against Dave, and tightened his grip on the other’s hands and ankles.  He trailed his lips down Dave’s neck to his shoulder.  John kissed his collarbone and pricked flesh with a single fang.  He avoided any major vessels and only teased out a couple drops.  It was enough for the flavor to overwhelm him.  Blood was always salty and savory, but Dave was also sweet and fresh, with a hint of bitterness and a kick like menthol.  It was like drinking a springtime walk, the absolute height of ecstasy to the tastebuds.

 

John straightened and smiled down at his captive.  He licked the blood off his teeth and purred.  “Mmmm, thank you much.”  He bit his tongue and kissed Dave roughly, forcing the other’s mouth open.  Some of his own blood trickled down his captive’s throat.

 

Dave writhed against him and tried to bite him, forcing John to pull back.  “Fuck, let me go.”

 

John layered his voice with a curse and looked his captive in the eye.   _ “Shh.  It’s okay.  I won’t hurt you.  I’m really grateful.  Just forget I bit you.  We can do this again sometime.” _

 

“Fuck off.”

 

John blinked, shock seeping through the blood haze.  “You’re immune to mesmerization.”

 

Dave’s next words were incomprehensible to the vampire.  They stung his ears and set his mouth, throat, and chest on fire.  John hissed and scrambled back, right off the couch.  He landed on the floor in a heap of flailing limbs.  He rolled to his hands and knees and gagged himself.  After throwing up the blood, the intensity of the flames inside him dropped.  The pain was still enough to leave him curled up on his side, clutching his chest.

 

John froze.  Something hard and sharp pressed against his throat, burning his skin despite being the same temperature as him.

 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t kill you.”

 

John shrunk against the floor, stomach sinking.  Fuck.  Dave’s eyes were hard and his mouth was set in a grim line.  He expertly wielded a gleaming katana, poised to separate his assaulter's head from shoulders.

 

_ “Rose.” _  John’s voice came out scratched, like a smoker of several decades.

 

That gave Dave pause.  “She’s another filthy bloodsucker.”

 

“No,” John wheezed.  “But.  She threatened you.  If you kill me before convincing her- hhk- what I am.  If I disappear tonight.  She’ll fight you.  To the death.  Please.  I don’t want that.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Tell her in the morning.  She’ll gladly help you hunt -khh- me.”

 

Dave grinned a shade near maniacal.  “You want a game of cat and mouse?  With a one day head start.  Sounds interesting.”

 

John started bawling.  “I can’t run- hic.  If she doesn’t see me.  Hhk.  She’ll challenge you.  She wanted to kill you.  Hkk.  For the man in the cell.  I don’t want- hic- either of you to be killed.  But I don’t want to die.  What do I do now, Dave?”

 

The maniacal glint faded from his friend’s red eyes.  It was replaced by something more dangerous.  “You killed the man in the cell.”   
  
“I did-hic.”  John hung his head, showing shame.  His voice was starting to recover from the burns, and he tapered back the sobs.

 

“I can't believe you actually fucking dare try crocodile tears when you just bit me and blooded me.  You think I'm going to be convinced by sobs when you don't need to breathe?”   

 

“Heh, caught me.”

 

Dave pressed on the blade, forcing John to crawl back.  “Don't mock me.  I know what you're trying to do.  I've seen it a hundred times.”

 

“I’m trying to surrender.”

 

“Get me to lower my guard.  The moment I set down my sword, you'll kill me.”

 

“I don't want you to die.”

 

“So said the lifesucker.”  Dave barked, voice further off color.  “You blooded me.  You want to change me.”

 

John grinned, all fangs, and cackled.  “Wrong.   _ I want you. _  All hell forbid a needless death unto a good man and the finest blood I’ve ever tasted.  Changing would ruin the flavor.  Why do you have to be so pure, so stainless and holy?  Just a few drops of your blood were enough to roast my insides.  You can’t possibly be human.”

 

Dave spat at his face.  “Wouldn't you like to know?”

 

_ “Don’t stop believing~” _  John’s ringtone startled them.

 

Dave circled around without taking eyes off of his assailant and picked up the phone.  “Sup.  Strider on the line.”

 

With his sharp ears, John heard Rose respond.  “Evening.  An inquiry if you will: why am I speaking to you?”

 

Dave hesitated.  “John threw up.  He's planted on the floor of his living room.”

 

“He's indisposed?  All the more reason I'd like to check on him.  I was expecting a text.”

 

“I'm gonna veto that, Lalonde.  He probably shouldn't move right now.”  Dave pinched the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could return his second hand to the katana.  “Hey, we should go out sometime.”

 

John choked on a guffaw.   _ Now, of all times?  Honestly? _  Rose herself took a moment to respond.  “You have utterly blindsided me.  Not only have I expressed explicit interest in the fairer sex; I also made a threat on your life this afternoon.  That provides very little basis for either a physical or emotional relationship or hookup.  Are you out of your mind?”

 

Dave stared John down, daring the other to laugh.  “That came out wrong.  I'm trippin’ on my tongue worse than John is trippin’ on his appetite right now.  Fuck, you're missing all the humor.  You gotta hear this.  John and I- we’re watching a movie over some rad smoothies, and things are advancing right from buddy-buddy to real cozy.  Even after years of all the ‘purity-of-spirit’ propaganda, here I am thinking with my dick.  Not givin’ a second thought to my vows, cause fuck that; I've had a bad week.”

 

Dave circled back around behind John.  All the vampire could see was the very tip of the blade at the side of his neck.  He'd have no time to react if Dave moved to kill him.

 

Rose concurred.  “We all have.  Can I speak with John now?”

 

“No, listen.  I’m telling a story.  So this couch is comfy as fuck, and I have claimed it for my princess bedchamber.  I graciously allow John to monopolize my bed- I know it's actually his sofa.  That'd make me the gentleman of the chamber, not the princess.  Shut up.  Before I know it, John’s sweet talkin the gentleman, and I make some obvious conclusions about how this will end.  Turns out I was dead wrong.  Real dead.  The son of a bitch isn't even attracted to men.  He wanted  _ food _ from me.  Acting on sheer impulse from his stomach; worse than me thinking with my dick.  I made a total fool of myself, Rose.  Shoulda known better; fell face first into a top tier fuckup.  Now I'm at a loss for what to do- if I should call my Bro.  Except: where was I originally going with this?  The monologue just carries itself wherever its inclined.”

 

“You were attempting to clarify your intentions.  You got the point across  _ quite _ strongly, if not clearly, considering your language and the length of your monologue.  Obviously, it is not I you are interested in.  Do you realize: if any of this actually took place and we presume an equivalence relation, you just stated that your trouble with your tongue is worse than your trouble with your genitalia?  I can only imagine what  _ flavor _ of mishap you attempted to describe to me.”

 

“Fuck, I was not talking about oral.”

 

Rose was definitely smirking.  “You tell yourself that.  Please put John on the line now.”

 

“Quiet, I’m still trying to ask you out on a date.  Wait, shit.”

 

Despite the deadly turn of the situation, John failed to cover his laugh.  “Oh lordy, Dave.”

 

“Shut it, Egbert.  Rose, would you like to go out hunting with me sometime?”

 

Rose’s audible humor dried up instantly.  “When you say hunting…”

 

“I’m something of an exorcist.  John told me you hunt vampires and shit.  That you were suspicious of me.”

 

“...He outright told you.  Did he even bother to check your reflection?”

 

“Lalonde.  Rose.  Don't tell me you're an amateur.  That's just a weird myth.  Amateurs get  _ killed.” _

 

“Though I still doubt your identity, I return the same question to you, Strider.  You weren't aware there are tools and artifacts that reveal the supernatural?  What are you to be so confident against an apex predator?”

 

“Just a guy with a sword.  You?”

 

“I like to think myself a soldier; a conduit for another defendant and jury.”

 

“Trading riddles is almost as sweet as a rap off as far as progress goes.”

 

“Then I’ll redact the mystery for a fair warning: are you what I’ve accused you of being, I am obligated to turn you over to those that will decide your fate.  They don't tend toward mercy.”

 

“I got that from John.”

 

Rose said, exasperated, “I am yet amazed he was foolish enough to directly confront you about your apparent vampirism.  This is a new depth of reckless abandon.”

 

“Yeah, he made some real stupid moves tonight.  To be fair though, I think he would've smelled it if I was undead.  Anyways.  Hunting.  5 PM tomorrow.  I want to trade tips and make sure you aren't trying to die by supernatural encounter.  That you're a professional.  I can bring John with, all safe and whole.  On my honour.”

 

“Consider me sceptical but interested.  May I speak with John now?”

 

John shrugged and quietly said, “Up to you, man.  I am putty in your hands.”

 

“...Sure, he should be good to talk.”  The phone slid across the floor.  Dave instructed him, “Put it on speaker.  One wrong word, and it's your head.”

 

John complied.  “Hi, Rose!  Sorry I didn't text you.  I got sick.”

 

“Hello, John.  You had me worried, especially considering my little chat with Strider there.  You made no attempt to confirm or deny the status of David’s race as you said you would, you utter fool.  Unless you've already checked his reflection discreetly?”

 

“Hehe, nope.  We were watching a movie and talking about Feferi, and I guess I got distracted.”

 

Rose sighed, “Do you not care for your own life even slightly?”

 

“Oh gosh, of course!  But I didn't see any reason to worry, and I’m trying not to act super anxious now that I'm in college.”  The flat of the blade tapped twice against John’s neck, leaving thin burns.  “I think I have to go.  Stomach.”

 

“John, you're still at risk; even moreso now.  You can’t expect me to leave things as they are for the night.”

 

“Nah, Dave's clean.  If you heard his prayer just now, you'd believe me.”

 

“Implying?”

 

John realized his mistake.  “Uhh.  That vampires can't pray?”

 

“You shouldn't know that.”

 

“...Dave told me.”

 

Rose hit a peak in exasperation.  “Do you honestly think he wouldn't fabricate factoids that back his persona?”

 

“Wow, I didn't even think of that!  Is it not true then?”

 

“Dearest John, you are clever yet too stupid to live.  It's true, yes.”

 

“Man, do I know it.  But the point is Dave is totally fine!  My stomach is still not doing so good, though.  See you tomorrow?”

 

“Of course.  Get some rest.”

 

“Thanks.  You too!”  John clicked the phone off and set it in front of him.  He was a bit relieved Dave was behind him.  He didn't have to look his former friend in the eye as he asked, “Why didn't you tell her about me?”

 

Dave’s footsteps signaled his movement as he circled back to the front to grab the phone.  “The broad strikes me as the genocidal type.  Have to think about this; get my bearing before dealing with her response to the news tomorrow.”

 

John asked, “You aren't?  The genocidal type.”

 

“It's complicated.”

 

John tilted his head thoughtfully.  “Feed me more of it.”

 

Dave lowered his sword.  Some semblance of normalcy returned to his posture.  “Well, shit, John.  I forgot how much of a goober you are for a moment there.  Do you  _ want _ to die?”

 

“No!  But I don't want to threaten you either; even moreso since you didn't tell Rose.  There's some kind of holy enchantment in your blood, isn't there?  Or perhaps on your body as a whole.  With that inside me, you can set me alight with a single word.  We’d be at a proper stalemate then.”

 

“...Alright.”  Dave swung his sword down, slicing open his bare foot.  Then, he brought the blade up to John’s eye level.  The gobs of blood coating the tip of the sword were much more generous than what John allowed himself before.  Aware that a flick of the wrist could tear his face open, John carefully licked the blade clean.  He couldn't help a tiny whimper.

 

“Mmm, not fair.  Even knowing I’m drinking a live bomb, you still taste wonderful.  Like spring at dawn.”

 

“That's fucking disgusting.  We've already passed sharing a bunk but sleeping on the same bed levels of weird here.  Don't make it weirder.”

 

John glanced at Dave’s foot.  “Do you- uhh- want me to heal that for you?”

 

“I've got it.”

 

John flinched away and covered his ears.  Dave's healing prayer stung him even as it wove together sundered flesh and washed away part of the stain from being blooded by a vampire.  Though John wasn't able to comprehend the words, the cadence sounded familiar.  

 

He clapped his hands over his mouth, sick all over with recognition.  “Oh my.  Dave, we killed Feferi.”

 

“The fuck, Egbert?  Eridan… killed… her.  You tried to turn her, didn't you?”

 

“And you tried to heal her.  We canceled each other out, healing prayer to curse.  She could've  _ lived. _  Or lived again.  __ I didn't realize at the time.  I'm so sorry.”

 

Dave carefully sat on the floor and rested his head in his hands.  “Fuck.  You were trying to… what?”

 

“Save her, duh!  The CPR?  I was so desperate and angry when I realized it wasn't working.  Ugh, we fucked up.”

 

“We fucked up,” Dave agreed.  “Didn't realize you can blood someone after they've already died.”

 

“Now who's the amateur?  If the victim isn't brain dead, anything goes.  Not that you’d last long as a one legged stalker of the night, and you have to hide the wounds if it's obvious you should be dead.”

 

John collapsed back on the floor.  His gut still stirred with a small mix of desire and fear- a constant when he was around Dave.  For the most part, he was emotionally drained dry now that the immediate threat of the katana was sheathed.  He was too stunned to even dread the coming day.

 

His head landed right next to the soiled carpet.  The smell of bile flooded his nose.  “Ugh, I should probably clean this up.  Is it alright if I grab supplies from the bathroom?”

 

Dave shrugged.  “As long as you remain at least five feet away from me and in my line of sight, do what you want.”

 

As always, John moved at a human pace to the bathroom and back.  No need to spook the other and get the sword drawn on him again.  Carpet washed and smell cleared, he sat on the end of the sofa nearest his bedroom.

 

Dave dragged his four boxes into John’s room.  The long, heavy one was open.  It contained several three piece sets of Japanese swords.  So that was where the katana came from.

 

“Are you actually Houdini?  How'd you get your sword out of that box so quickly?”  Dave grunted and demonstrated.  In the second between blinks, one of the smaller boxes was cut open.  “Oh my gosh, you're like an actual ninja!”

 

Dave glanced up at him.  “You can't stop being a hyperactive, anime fangirl for even five seconds to be properly intimidated?  What the fuck is wrong with you?”

 

He took an ornate toy house from the box.  It stood four inches tall with curved red shingles and floral gold trim.  A dragon with masterfully painted glittering scales curled around three walls on the outside.  It's daggerlike teeth stretched wide as though to bite anyone that tried to enter- perhaps a mouse.  On the inside, an alabaster sculpture of an angel with a long nose sat atop a tiny cushion.

 

Dave dusted imaginary grime off the little house and set it in the the doorway to John’s room.  He sat with his legs folded beneath him and made an incomprehensible gesture with his hands.  John bit back a growl when the other spoke, and the words were holy, stinging the vampire everywhere they touched.

 

When Dave stood, a renewed wave of mountain flowers, feathers, and ants rolled over John.  “What did you just do to my room?”

 

Dave flopped down on the far end of the couch, the opposite of before.  “Portable, instant shrine.  Technique I invented myself; it's saved my life a fuckload of times.”

 

“You consecrated my room?!  You jerkface!  Now I can't go in there.”

 

“That’s the point, dipshit.  Can't have you offing me in my sleep.”

 

“Alright, fine.  Are you sure it can actually protect you?  It's super flimsy looking.”

 

Dave stared hard at him.  “I'm not telling you if it's breakable.  Now shut up.  I'm rewinding this dumb movie to finish it.”

 

“...You’re seriously going to finish the movie, and I’m the dipshit?”  John made to retreat to his kitchen.

 

“My line of sight.  Sit the fuck down.”

 

“Okay?”

 

The next half hour was the most tense John had experienced in all his unlife or otherwise.  Neither spoke a word, and every twitch earned a reaction from the other.  John couldn't breathe easily, or really breathe at all, until Dave retired for the evening.  He was relieved when the other silently offered him his pillow and blanket.  It was an oddly humane gesture juxtaposed with Dave’s killing intent and flip of the bird as a valediction.

 

“If you fuck off in the middle of the night, I’m hunting you down.”

 

“G’night to you, too?”

 

~~~

 

John was woken by the glaring light of dawn.  His eyes dried immediately.  He shut them and threw a blanket over his head before they started burning up.  “Asshole…  DAVE.  CLOSE THE FUCKING CURTAINS, WOULD YOU?  I’M GOING TO GO BLIND.”

 

No one answered.  It occurred to him that he couldn't hear Dave’s heartbeat.  Grumbling, John crawled over to the windows and groped for the blinds.  Able to see again in the semi darkness, John texted Dave.

 

_ where are you? my eye drops and sunscreen are in my room. _

 

After making fruit pancakes and eating half, Dave still didn't text back.

 

_ daaave _

_ answer your phone. _

_ i’m stuck inside. _

_ am i going to have to break into my own room? _

 

After watching a movie, Dave still didn't text back.  That was odd.  The guy was glued to his phone and always answered within a breath.  Although, John never texted him this early before.

 

Maybe a call would be more successful?  A personal mix of Dave’s started playing from John’s room- his ringtone.  “Fuuuck.”  Resigned, John trudged over and opened his bedroom door.  Just being so close to the little shrine made his stomach churn.  Damn if Dave wasn't good at what he does.

 

Maybe he could just move it?  John grabbed a broom and swatted at the toy house.  The bristles parted around it.  He tried the other end of the broom next.  It bounced off as though the tiny house was nailed to the floor.  Finally, he looked at the angel statue and layered his voice with a heavy curse,  _ “Grant me entrance.  This is my room.” _

 

His own scent of flour and lavender strengthened as the curse hung in the air.  Tentatively, John set a foot over the threshold.  It was like stepping on hot coals.  He hissed and clambered back.  Resigning himself to a day inside, John popped in an old classic,  _ Kinetic Verdancy, _ and poured over his phone.  Before getting to work, he called the only person from before Lyrist that he considered worth his time.  The terse conversation to update the woman with his situation left him rather drained.

 

At least it was Sunday and not a school day.  Still, these transactions would be easier to approve or revise if he had his laptop, another possession trapped in his room.

 

A shower would also be wonderful right now, though it wouldn't be prudent to wash off what remained of his sunscreen when he couldn't apply more.  The hint of bile still clung slightly to John, though most of it was covered by Dave’s scent.  Mmm.  Maybe he was okay with that after all.

 

During the approvals, John kept glancing at the compact mirror.  Giving in, he picked up the little device.  It swung open smoothly.  The surface inside was creamy and perfectly opaque, reflecting nothing.  Disturbed, John tried not to think much about it.

 

After catching up on transactions, next on the list was sampling cake mixes.  The delivery he received contained a clean 16 samples.  Pulling from his stock of eggs, he set to work.  This was the one time he'd allow himself to move at unnatural speeds for the convenience.  While always a small gamble, he presumed the only person who might walk in and notice something amiss was his captive-turned-captor.

 

The last four cakes out of the ovens and cooling, he plopped right back down on the sofa with his cell.  John was looking up options for a purchase order when Jade called him.  “Hi girly.”

 

“Hi, John!”

 

“Need something or calling for a chit-chat?  I’m suuuper bored, I died of boredom, so either way.”

 

“A need a favor, kind of a big one.  I'm sorry for asking right after I got mad at you, but I'm kind of desperate here!”

 

“Sure, if there's something I can do, I'm happy to help.”

 

Jade paused to gather herself.  “So.  I really need to feed Becquerel, and I forgot to stock up on food because we were in jail.”

 

“You need me to get dog food?”

 

“Any food, as long as there's at least twenty pounds of it and I have it by 7 PM!  I have to go into work then.  Something cheap like rice or French fries is fine.  See, Bec gets these mood swings, and he's  _ very _ hungry.  Problem is I kind of can't leave my apartment while he’s like this.”

 

John thought about that.  “That's a weirdly specific request.  It just so happens I made- hmm- 40 pounds of cake today?  More?  I was going to bring it to the soup kitchen after I cut a slice of each, so I definitely don't need it.”

 

“Why on Earth did you make so much cake, you goofball?  That's perfect!  Thank you, John!”

 

“But.”

 

“But?”

 

“Funny coincidence.  I'm actually stuck in my apartment until 7 PM myself.  Unless Strider gets back before then.  He left his phone in my room, so I can't contact him.”

 

“Okay…”  Jade proposed, “Maybe Rose could pick up the cake for me?”

 

“NO!  Err, I mean.  If you're having any  _ problems _ today, like it sounds like you are with Bec, it would definitely be better if Rose didn't know.”

 

Jade spoke very carefully, “You mean the same kind of problem that you mentioned when I was talking about my grandpa?”

 

“Yes, exactly!  I strongly recommend avoiding any and all hints that might tip off Rose.  Or Dave, for that matter.”

 

“I usually try to.”

 

John instructed her, “You need to be extra careful with them.  Way more than usual.  I don't mind if you want to tell me about your troubles or if you'd prefer to keep it under the rug.  Either way, Dave and Rose cannot know.  This is very important.”

 

Jade was confused.  “Alright.  Thanks?”

 

Then it hit John all over again.  He was dead as soon as his captor convinced Rose of what he was; most likely in a couple of hours.  His voice turned thick.  “Jade?”

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“Yeah, it is.  I’m sure you've noticed how cold I am when we tussle.  I have a ‘problem’ of my own.  I might have to disappear tonight because of it, okay?  If that happens, I won't be able to call you or bring you the dog food.  Sorry.  It's crazy to think it's only been two months, but I was super lucky to meet you.  Always remember I think you're really cool no matter what.”

 

Jade worried, “You aren't going to hurt yourself, are you?”

 

“No, never.”

 

“Then- try to stay safe!  Please?!  You're the first person I've ever asked about- uh…”

 

“About your problem?”

 

“Yes, exactly!  I had to work up the courage just to call you.”

 

John smiled, “I'm really glad you did.  Thanks for trusting me.”

 

“I'm glad I did too.  If whateveritis clears up, want to come over for tacos tomorrow evening?  I… think I’d like to tell you more about it.”

 

“I’d like that.  If I'm in class tomorrow, then absolutely.”

 

“Great!”  Jade’s voice dropped again.  “I'm sorry, I really have to go now.”

 

“Alright.  Bye, Jade.”

 

“Bye.”

 

John sunk into the cushions.  He couldn't bring himself to pull open the purchase options again.  It struck him how odd it was that he didn't even think twice before spending the whole morning working.  At a deeper level, he expected to be around to see which of his cake mixes hit the shelf.  He couldn't convince himself otherwise and... he didn't really want to.  That in mind, he deliberately worked until 2 and studied until Dave made an appearance at 4:45 as some small act of defiance.

 

The pale boy opened the door without making a sound, but John heard his heartbeat and ran out of the kitchen.  “Dave!  Darn you, where have you been?”

 

Strider sidestepped him and said, “At least five feet away, ya fucking ice cream cone.”

 

John stumbled to a halt.  “Why didn't you take your shrine down when you left?  I couldn't get my sunscreen from my room.  I’ve been stuck inside all day!  And what the fuck are you wearing?”

 

Dave was adorned with sandals woven from straw, a white robe, and a plain satchel.  “My running clothes.  Was out for a marathon.”

 

“For twelve hours?!”

 

“Yep.  Hey, does it seem hot in here to you?”

 

John facepalmed.  “My body is literally room temperature, Dave.  I have no idea.  Thermostat is all yours.  Now, please go get my sunscreen for me.”

 

Dave scratched his face with one hand and reached into his bag with the other.  “Oh, it’s right here.  I borrowed it.”

 

John froze.  “Did you put it on?”

 

Dave scratched at his arm.  His skin, perfectly white only a moment ago, was an angry pink.  “Yeah, fucking albinism is-”

 

Moving at his full speed, John wrapped steely fingers around Dave and easily lifted him.  Ignoring the other’s sudden spike in heart rate and blessed words, the vampire crossed the room and tossed him on top of his tiny shrine.  “Don't move!”

 

John didn't stop to thank his lucky stars.  Apparently the other’s blood was out of his system, and he wasn’t seared through.  He slowed down when he had a bucket underneath his showerhead.  While he filled it, Dave yelled, “What the fuck was that?”

 

John heard him take a step, then another, right into the middle of the spot the vampire cursed earlier while trying to break into the shrine.  Dave started screaming.

 

Bucket in hand, John virtually materialized in front of Dave and pushed him back into the sanctified room.  Then, John stepped over the threshold himself and used a rag to scrub at Dave’s face.  A second rag was shoved in the pale boy’s hand.  John clenched his teeth so he wouldn't cry out as everything started to burn.  Fuck, it  _ hurt. _  “Hhh- Dave, you need to get it off right now.”

 

Dave made another incomprehensible gesture with a shaking hand over the bucket of water.  John had to retreat as the heat all over his body intensified.  He collapsed in the hall.  Dave upended the bucket on himself and sighed in relief.  The water, despite coming from the tap, gave off the same smell of mountain flowers, down, and formic acid as everything else Dave blessed.

 

They both laid panting on opposite sides of the door for several minutes.  For John, the heavy breathing was an ingrained habit rather than a psychosomatic response.  Even in the middle of a crisis, even alone in the dead of night, never let up the human act, John always told himself.

 

“You okay?”  John’s voice was scratchy from burns once again.

 

“Sort of.  You?”

 

“Think so.  Aloe.  In the drawer.  Please.”

 

Dave crawled over to the dresser.  He hissed as he rubbed the green goo on himself.  John rolled to get a better view of his roommate’s injuries.  Dave’s skin was a pallette of various reds.  All over his body, large blisters were starting to form.  Glancing at his hands, John realized he didn't look any better, though he turned brown instead of red.

 

Still on his hands and knees, Dave moved back to the doorway and handed the aloe to John.  While he applied it, Dave took up his healing prayer.  Though the cut the night before knit together almost instantly, it took roughly a third of an hour for the blisters to dissolve and the color to fade from his skin.

 

John curled up and covered his ears the entire time, occasionally whimpering.  It would've been wise to move away, but everything hurt too much.  It felt like his body was poked full of holes, scraped with sand, and dried out, like some wise guy thought John-beef jerky was a great new flavor to try.

 

Dave grabbed his phone and presumably texted Rose to warn of their delayed arrival.  He sat in the hall and prodded John.  The contact made the vampire whimper.  “You're not healing like yesterday.”

 

“...Need blood.”

 

“Only you have the nerve to be sheepish about it.  Fuck, this would be easier if you sounded like a predator.”

 

“Wha-?”  Were John in better health, he would've laughed at the contradicting phrase.  As it was, he shuddered slightly.

 

“Take it.”  Dave dangled his wrist under John’s nose.

 

Awareness slipping away, John latched onto the limb with a grip strong enough to bruise.  Without so much as extending his fangs, he sucked on the skin.

 

“The fuck.  Did I ask for a hickey?”

 

“Sorry.”  Snapping out of it, he turned his head and dug a single fang in.  A blood haze immediately set in, but the menthol-like kick was stronger than the day before and countered it.  It was strange, a feeling of drifting asleep and being shocked awake at the same time.  Unsure how to react, he pulled back.

 

“That was enough to heal?” Dave asked.  He almost sounded angry.

 

“No.”

 

“Then you're not done.”

 

“No.”

 

Dave pressed his arm against John’s lips.  It was bizarre.  He longed to claim the man that wild scent belonged to _ ;  _ tackle Dave and pin him, charm him and bite him.  Yet, here John was, curled up on the floor, hurting too much to move, and being force fed.  It made him nervous.  Part of him quaked, recognizing again that Dave looked like another vampire at the absolute peak of fitness.  It screamed at him to run and hide, that sitting helpless at the other’s feet was a death sentence.

 

This time holding onto Dave delicately, he bit and drank his fill.  When he finally let go, he realized how slow Dave’s heartbeat was.  Definitely more than a pint.  “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.  I didn't mean to-”

 

Dave cut him off with poisonous words.  It was another variant of the healing prayer.  After several minutes, Dave’s heartbeat returned to normal.  Cheater.

 

John said, “Thank you much.”

 

“Don't you fucking dare thank me.  I promised Rose I'd give you to her whole.  Nothing more.”  Despite the hostilities, Dave leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.  He was completely exposed.  “And what the fuck was in that sunscreen?  I was fine for half a day.”

 

“Nothing.  It's regular sunblock, but I cursed it so it'd absorb holy light.  Honestly, I'm not sure what the difference is between that and regular old UVs, but it works.”

 

“Never heard of that technique.  Why didn't I react until I showed up here?  I’d think you did it on purpose if you didn't end up as a slice of bacon as a result.”

 

John pointed at Dave accusingly.  He ignored the other’s closed eyes.  “I may have put a much stronger curse in the hallway that the sunscreen reacted to.  But it's not my fault!  You're the stupid dumb that rubbed the curse into your skin.  I was just trying to get into my room.”

 

“I had no fucking idea that was possible.  Thanks, ya lifeleech.  Now I’ll be hella paranoid about demons during the day.”  Dave waved his phone.  Then, he retrieved the eye drops.  “Got your messages.  What are these for?”

 

“Saline-sunblock-dye solution.  Again, it's cursed.  Please do not put these in your eyes, Dave.  You’ll go blind.”  John pulled off his glasses to administer the drops.  His irises were once again stained blue.

 

“Speaking of-”  Dave plucked the square glasses up and looked through them.  “How the fuck do you see with these on?”

 

John blinked.  “Uhh.  That's how glasses work?  They bend light so it hits the focal point in my eyes?  This is a completely human thing, Dave.  I realize you think glasses are for looking cool-”

 

“Oh, shut up, Egbert.  I’m not a cave hermit.  I know the way of the sciences.  I mean how can  _ you _ see with this particular pair?”

 

“I don't think that changes my answer?”

 

“Ho- Shit.  Is this your real prescription?”

 

John prodded him with a toe until Dave noticed the stern look he was getting.  “Dave.  Man.  Duh.  They're my glasses; my prescription.  You don't think I'm a creep, do you?  I wouldn't steal someone else’s.”

 

“Whatever the fuck you tried yesterday defines creepy.”  Dave wrinkled his nose.  “Consider this anatomy & weird shit 101.  I thought your eyes are better than ours.”

 

“Ha!  They were a long time ago.  Daily sunlight is bad for my eyes, dumbass.  I’ll go blind from it eventually.  But you had no idea!  You’re~ an~ amateur.”

 

“None of the demonic creatures I've killed were dumb enough to brave the sun so often.”

 

“None of them were smart enough to!”  Dave arched a brow.  John was never getting over how they framed his eyes.  “C’mon.  You and Rose didn't notice a thing for two months.  Clearly, the elaborate human act is accomplishing something.”

 

“Exactly.”  Dave bodily turned toward him, hands on his knees, weight forward.  John had his full attention.  “I need to know precisely how you did it.  You claim you want me to live.  Tell me.  I'm not confident I’ll survive the second time I’m tricked like last night.”

 

“Sure thing, buddy!”  John turned out his pockets and tugged at his sweatshirt.  Several hand warmers spilled out, and another sweatshirt was under the first.  “I avoid most touching but also put in some effort to make casual contact with my hands.  Establish the illusion.  In case I can't avoid other contact, I try to hold onto as much heat as possible.  Fidgeting a lot to create friction helps a little.  For the most part, I layer in dark colors and sit in the sun as much as possible.”

 

“The hyperactiveness is deliberate.”  Dave rubbed his temple.  “I want to call you a tricky little fucker, but that's kind of an obvious solution in hindsight.”

 

“Thank you!  Of course, the soc and psych stuff is a lot more important than the physical stuff.”  John’s phone went off.  “Hang on.  Hi, Rose!”

 

“John Egbert.  Dearest.  Where in hell are you?”

 

“Oh, shoot!  It's already 5:25?  I'm really sorry!  We haven't left my apartment yet.  We got distracted by- uh- by… this movie?”

 

“By ‘movie’, you mean your new roommate?”

 

“No!” John squeaked.  His voice jumped an octave and a quarter.  “We’ll be there in ten minutes, alright?”

 

“Alright, thank you.”

 

“See you soon!”  John hung up.  He knew his metabolism didn’t work that quickly, but his skin was back to its usual tan- that is, heavily sun scorched- and his limbs felt springy.  It was the act of sacrilege that strengthened him.  Nonetheless, his feet were heavy and he had to drag himself to the door.  He picked up the sunblock and reapplied it.  Dave changed into regular clothes- plus sunglasses and three swords- and joined him.

 

John locked the door behind them and handed Dave the keys to the apartment.  Quietly, he instructed the other, “I made some cakes for taste testing earlier.  Could you drop them off at the soup kitchen for me?”   _ Sorry, Jade.  _  “You’re welcome to keep whatever you can eat, but the cake mix has been processed to hell and back.  Sorry.  For the rest, there's a collapsible luggage dolly in the closet.  My food permit is in the rightmost drawer in the kitchen, but you probably won't need it.  I do this every Saturday, so they won't expect any problems with the cakes.  Oh, and there are fruit pancakes in the fridge!  Those are Dave-safe.”

 

“If you take a liking to the piano, the C5 key is broken.  Breally’s on 5th Avenue is familiar enough with the model to fix it.  I guess I never got around to it.  Umm, otherwise, it's a relatively expensive model- not the nicest I own, mind- but pawning it should cover about seven months of rent.  At least in this building.  Probably more elsewhere.”  John wracked his brain for anything else, blinking rapidly.

 

“Why the fuck are you doing this.”  Dave’s question was more of a demand.

 

John twiddled his thumbs.  “I dunno.  I guess this is it.  Gotta convince Rose you didn't kill the dude in jail.”

 

“You could've easily snapped my neck or let me burn today.”

 

John shrugged.  “Can't say I've never done that before.  It's not easy, though.”

 

“That's why you need to die.”  If ever Dave managed a perfect poker face, it was now.  His heart didn't stutter.  He doubted none of his words.  “You should've run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to everyone that assisted me in gauging the effectiveness of the writing style used in Ch's 1 & 2
> 
> ϵ> Flare


	4. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn did I ever waver with what I was doing here. Here's hoping the result is satiating.
> 
> CW for greco-1337. Anything even vaguely important that's written illegibly will be rehashed, so if you don't enjoy deciphering text, don't worry about it.

Rose draped herself in polished annoyance like a fashionable scarf.  “After a long record of punctuality between you two, you choose a time of tension for tardiness?  Honestly.”

 

John took a seat next to her in their usual booth at the cafe.  He rather liked the kitten photos on the wall above it.  “Sorry, Rose!”

 

“Credit goes to the buck toothed idiot for this one,” Dave said.  Was it really John’s overly square teeth the other had a problem with?

 

“Hehe, the truly dumb deed I did not do.”

 

Strider flipped him off.  “Egbert here sees no problem with storing corrosive substances in sunscreen containers and not labeling them.”   
  


“Oh dear,” Rose said, “I presume you noticed nothing wrong with the substance in questioned and lathered yourself with it?”

 

John agreed, “Exactly!  He didn’t even realize how much it smells, the dumb.  We had to clean Dave off and patch him up before heading out.”

 

“I’m off my game after yesterday.  Shut up.”

 

Rose gave him a long look.  “I’ll forgive the delay given it was an emergency.  To the first point of order: my mirror, please?”

 

“Hoo boy.  I don’t have it with me,” John lied.  “Dave locked me out of my room, so I couldn’t grab it.”  The compact was actually in his back pocket.  Like fuck he was giving it back to Rose.  He had no idea what it would reflect of his friends; if it would be incriminating.

 

Rose eyed him.  “Dave refused to retrieve the mirror that can prove his guilt.  If I’ve ever heard a more suspicious tale-”

 

_ “What mirror?” _ Dave begged of them.

 

John waved his hands frantically.  “That has nothing to do with it!  I didn’t even tell him it was there.  He really is innocent, I swear.”

 

“Woah, hold on,” Dave said.  “Prove my guilt as in bloodsucking?  This is one of the artifacts you mentioned yesterday?  And you borrowed it to John?”

 

“That precisely.”

 

Dave slid his sunglasses off and very slowly slid an accusing stare to John.  Hopefully, the pale boy assumed John was merely covering for himself.   “You claim you want to prove my innocence, and you failed to mention that you have something that could do so instantly.”

 

Rose leaned forward to intercept his hostility.  “The only wise move he’s made, I’d say.  If you are guilty, surely such an artifact would’ve lead to desperate acts on your behalf?”

 

“Why does everyone think I’m the novice?”  Dave laid his arm across the table, palm up.  “You’re too focused on complex methods, Rose.  You’re forgetting the simple ones.  Doesn’t exactly give me confidence in your skill.”

 

“You may be right.  Where have I misplaced my efficiency at?”  Rose folded her hand over Dave’s, a finger at his pulse point.  Then, she nodded.  “I offer my condolences for any grief my false accusation may have caused you.”

 

“Only one sleepless night.  Don’t sweat it.”  Dave stared at a knot in the table.  “If hunting is a pastime of yours, you have to be decisive, or you’ll get killed.”

 

“Thank you for your understanding, David.”

 

John gauged the room surreptitiously.  The nearest customer was roughly eight feet away, and the exit fifteen yards.  Now that Rose believed him about Dave, he was free to run.  The only question was how.  With the volume of holy blood in him, Dave could kill him instantly, likely just with a thought.  He also had no idea what Rose had up her sleeve.  Although… Did Strider know his own potency?  Perhaps John could bluff; take a hostage.  The method of his escape didn’t matter to him as long as Rose and Dave both lived.

 

**You know.**

 

Rose said, “It is my hope you will only experience one more sleepless night, until we get that mirror back.”

 

What?

 

She continued.  “It was suggested to me that my thinking was naive.  Pardon my forwardness- I am still not convinced you aren’t dangerous.  There are many things you could be, Dave Strider.”

 

**Why do you deceive yourself?**

**You are more rational than this, little augur.**

 

“Regardless of what you are, you reacted strongly to blood.  Three days later, a man is found right under your nose, drained of it.  I gained access to the body.  Sure enough, the customary pair of punctures were absent from the victim.”  Wow, John did not expect his precautionary, half-mouth bites would backfire.  Ever.

 

**We know better.**

 

Looks like he needed to fess up after all.  “Rose, I wasn’t talking about Dave when I said that.  I didn’t want you to hurt him.”

 

**You’re true suspicions lay elsewhere.**

 

“I am aware.  You weren’t wrong, though.”

 

John demanded, “No, listen to me.  Dave didn’t kill the man in the cell, it was-”   
  


“It was the fourth guy.  I already took care of him,” Dave lied, heart stuttering slightly.  “I was serious about my work as an exorcist.”

 

John was stunned.  He couldn’t move his lungs, couldn’t think, couldn’t so much as turn his eyes toward his roommate.   _ Why?! _

 

Rose chose to misread his reaction.  “Oh, John.  I’m sorry you have to hear about this.  It must sound rather frightening, like murder.”  She moved to rest an arm on his shoulder.  He flinched.  She took her hand back, looking slightly aggrieved.

 

That shocked John out of it.  “Dave, why-”

 

“I don’t know.”  A truth.

 

**BOTH OF THEM.**

 

**WE WANT THEM BOTH.**

 

Without a word, Rose sprinted to the restroom.

 

“What the-”   
  


John’s attention snapped away from Rose.  “You covered for me.”  He was… what?  Forgiven?  Being saved for later?

 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”  Strider got up to order cocoa so he wouldn't have to sit alone with the vampire.  “And don’t you dare thank me for shit.”

 

Dave timed his return to coincide with Rose’s.  He was juggling three mugs and a glass of water.  John’s nose picked up sickness from the girl.  Her hands were shaking.  “Are you alright, Rose?  Sorry if I reacted sort of funny.”

 

“I’ll be fine in the morning.”

 

Dave handed her the water before distributing the cocoas, exchanging the same curious mix of hostility and care with Rose that he had with John.  “You shouldn’t go out if you’re puking your guts up.”

 

Rose said, “I can’t afford a sick day.  The number of victims will be at their peak tonight.  You’re familiar with the cycles, amateur?”

 

Dave grunted, “Mm.  Spike in supernatural activity every fourteen to fifteen days, with some variants.  Tonight’s one of the  _ worst _ nights to hunt demons if you aren’t on top of your game, Lalonde.  Wouldn't want your pretty face to get scratched off.”

 

“Unless you utilize the same astrological cycles.  Always lay claim to your foes advantages, I say.  Make them your own.”  Rose put on a stern, confident expression.  She was challenging the other.  “Or does the mere suggestion place me among your usual targets?  We have yet to establish if your ‘exorcism’ and my ‘private investigation’ are compatible.”  Fuck.  John didn't think of that.  He was too preoccupied with being found out.

 

Dave grinned in a way that John interpreted as  _ I’m no longer all the way here. _  “You committing blasphemies くUρ4W4 73νΓU >0ν0 would have your ass for?”

 

“Oh, most definitely.  くUρ4W4 73νΓU... If I recall my folklore correctly, you're referring to the spirit king $0ノ0８0?”  Dave nodded.  “A fair trade of information then: I consider 作|U7#|U my primary guide in my investigations and study of magic, though I borrow power from 0Γ|0Γ07#.”  Whatever all the names were, they hurt as though John cut his ears open and poured salt in them.

 

Dave flinched back like he was punched.   _ “You work for 0Γ|0Γ07#? Are you out of your fucking mind?” _

 

Rose chuckled.  “I’d be willing to bet the old mountain ascetic has you living a lifestyle of the flavor 作|U7#|U would find amusing; pressing you to keep your path straight, then leading you down a road of twists and contradictions; the perfect recipe for staining a spirit.  I suffer no such delusions as a consort of the dubious.”

 

Dave countered, “The cultists of theirs I’ve met were all too delusional to tie their shoes.  Those abominations destroy everything they touch.  You think you're tougher than them, that you won't be used up like a bottle of grease in the frier?”

 

“I take precautions.  Were?”

 

“Heck yeah, were.  They've been shishkebabed.  Can't have shells of people going on murderous rampages.”

 

“What a coincidence,” Rose spoke with mock lightheartedness, “I’ve also ‘shishkebabed’ a handful of the stained creatures serving $0ノ0８0.”

 

Oh, dear.  Okay.  Nope.  Those were death threats.  John was missing context, but there was no way that was okay.  He wondered if he couldn’t deflate tensions between them.  “You don’t understand, guys!  I’m having so much trouble reaching level five.  I need to slay upper class undead to level, but I need to level if I’m going to be tough enough to slay them.  Unfair!”  Rose and Dave silently agreed that he lost his marbles, his felt marble pouch, and the entire circle for playing marbles in.  In other words, exactly the solidarity he wanted from them.  He whispered, “The lady- dude?- over there is listening to us.  Pretend you’re talking about a game!”

 

Dave grinned into his palm.  Rose told him, “Dearest, naive John.  If they take us seriously, they’re likely suffering from a mental ailment.  Please don’t fret.”

 

“Shouldn't you know better?” Dave asked.

 

“Uhhh.  Maybe?”  He absolutely did.  That wasn't the point.  “People are kinda dumb, though.”  John played his tone into an invitation, hoping Dave would pick it up-

 

_ “You’re _ kinda dumb.”  Yep, there we go.

 

Uncharacteristically, Rose snatched the bait as well.  “I recommend allowing us to handle matters where you lack knowledge.”

 

What else… Would Dave get suspicious if he asked about their work?  “Tell me more about it, then.  Is this whole hunting thing something you guys do every night?”

 

“I try to vary my days off,” Rose answered.

 

“Gotta keep ‘em guessing,” Dave agreed.

 

Were he innocent, what would Rose expect him to ask?  “So… what else is real that you know of?  Aside from vampires?”

 

Rose reached for his shoulder again.  This time he relaxed into her grip.  “Are you certain you should know?  I don't want to give you nightmares.”

 

John leaned toward her.  Like Dave, her skin was curiously fresh, even through the sickness and sweat.  He caught an undertone of blood and jasmine tea that tore his instincts in two directions.  From this close, he realized she wasn't wearing contact lenses at all, despite the lavender color of her eyes.  He whispered just loud enough for the other two to catch, “Want to hear a secret?”

 

Dave tensed up.  It occurred to John that the girl right in front of him would be much easier to take as a hostage than the customer eight feet away.  Not that that was an option any longer.

 

Rose quirked a penciled brow.  “I have an unhealthy love of secrets.  Don't tempt me.”

 

**KiLLeR**

 

John considered this a good opportunity to safely test how murderous she truly was.  “I already knew werewolves are real.  I was mauled by one on my birthday!”  He leaned back and yanked his layers half up his chest.  His stomach housed a tangle of scars, some faded white and others permanently rosy.  He pointed to himself.  “He tried to eat my guts!  See, these longer ones are from his claws, and these jagged ones are from his teeth.  But I bet you already knew that since you're an expert. Pretty neat, right?”

 

Rose looked generally horrified and Dave like he was hit in the face by several bricks.  On instinct, the girl reached into her purse.  Fuck, not a good reaction.  They were even in public.

 

**く!||3ρ**

**Γ!^3 #!W 70 U$**

 

Dave snatched the thorn from her hand as soon as it was free of the purse.  “Not happenin’, Lalonde.”

 

John feigned ignorance as his heart dropped dead to his toes.  Even for Dave’s apparent act of murder, she didn't jump to violence so quickly.  “Is that a tree branch?  Whatcha got that for?”

 

Dave had his eyes on Rose and a hand on his katana, but the hint of confusion in his expression was all for John.  He feigned nothing.  “What did we just fucking talk about yesterday?  I’ll be  _ pissed _ if you lay a hand on him.”

 

“...Dave?”  John wasn't sure which reaction surprised him more.

 

Rose turned to the side and threw up all over the tiles.  Again pretending he didn't notice her attempted assault, John held her hair back for her.  Dave took a moment to gauge their relative safety before flashing to the garbage bin.  He returned with the heavy thing within two heartbeats.  Next, he refilled Rose’s water.  The barista sent over an employee with a mop.

 

Stomach empty, mouth rinsed out, and heavy bin dragged away by the employee, Rose sat back and stared at her hands.

 

**M#47 4ρ3 ¥0U M4!7!νΓ Φ0ρ**

**ν0M**

 

After a moment, Rose nodded her gratitude to both of them, though there was an evident lack of regret in her strained expression.  She extended a hand, palm up, to Dave.  “€4ν ! #4^3 W¥ 7#0ρν 84€く ア|34$3?”  John blinked.  Her words hung in the back of his head, incomprehensible like prayers, but they didn't sting.

 

“I don't speak Escher, Lalonde.”

 

John’s concern tripled.  “I thought that was just me!  You didn't understand either?”

 

Rose turned between them.  “!$ 7#3ρ3 4 アρ08|3W ??”

 

Dave looked at her, looked at John, and shrugged.  “Yeah, I got nothing.”

 

“ν07#!νΓ? ¥0U #4^3 W¥ 7#0ρν  _ ν!Γ#7 _ 7#3ρ3 !ν 7#3 0ア3ν.”  She moved her fingers, but the meaning of the gesture slipped past John’s consciousness just like the words.

 

Dave told her, “Okay, Lalonde.  If you can't even  _ say _ shoelaces, it's time to go home, plant a buttocks sprout in the sofa, and rethink your life choices long and hard, until that sprout’s a proper fruit-bearing tree with some good ideas.”

 

“! W4>3 ν0 W3ν7!0ν 0作 4ν¥ く!ν> 0作 作007M34ρ, 7#0UΓ# ! 4W ア3ρ#4ρ$ $|!Γ#7|¥ Uν>3ρ 7#3 M347#3ρ.”

 

**く!|| 7#3W**

**ρ0$3, M#¥ >0 ¥0U #3$!7473**

**7#3¥’ρ3 W0ν$73ρ$**

 

Dave shoved the thorn in his back pocket.  “Yep, we’re going now.”  He stood and offered Rose his arm.

 

“$7ρ!>3ρ, ア|34$3.”  John was certain Rose was wearing another of those polished expressions of hers, but the emotion was lost to him.

 

He gently took her shoulder and angled her out of the booth.  “Rose, dearest.  We don't understand what you're saying.  How about Dave and I walk you back to your apartment, and we can talk about it more sometime later.  After you figure out what's wrong?”

 

John watched carefully as she looked to the window and back to him.  Then, she swatted at his hand.   _ “>0ν’7 70U€# W3, M0|作.   _ M#¥ 4ρ3 ¥0U Γ0!νΓ 4|0νΓ M!7# $7ρ!>3ρ’$ 作4€4>3? _ ” _  She reached for her purse again.  John snatched and pocketed the second thorn before she had time to react.  He suspected he wouldn’t be so lucky if she were in her right mind.

 

“Nope!  This looks stabby.  I’m officially declaring Nannaquin’s a no stabby-object zone.  Including swords and teeth!  You can have this back when we get to your apartment.”

 

**く!||3ρ く!||3ρ く!||3ρ**

 

Rose screamed and slapped John’s hand away a second time.  “ノ0#ν 3Γ83ρ7, !作 ¥0U |4¥ 4 $!νΓ3 作!νΓ3ρ 0ν W3, ! M!|| 作|¥ 0作作 7#3 #4ν>|3 4ν> $U8$3QU3ν7|¥ 8ρ34く 7#3 >!Γ!7 !ν QU3$7!0ν.”  The few other customers and the barista were all staring by now.

 

“I understand you’re frustrated, but I don’t know what else to do for you.  C’mon now.”  John stood.  His pinky brushed against the girl’s forearm.  Rose grabbed it and twisted it with an audible  _ crack _ .  “Holy mother of gfff-”

 

“|!$73ν 70 W3 ν3メ7 7!W3 !!”  Rose sneered at him, then fled the table.  She stomped all the way to the door.

 

Dave whipped John’s keys at him.  “You fucking idiot.  Just go home.  And I’m not delivering your fucking cakes for you.  Do it yourself.”  He ran after Rose.

 

“Ff- ff- finger.”  John danced on the spot, clutching his pinky.  It wasn’t nearly as painful as the burns earlier, and he had more than enough room left in his mind to worry for the two running down the street.  Still,  _ ow. _

 

The barista rushed over.  “Sir, are you alright?  Should I call the police?  I’ve never seen you four fight before.”

 

John attempted to wave her off without moving either of his hands.  Not the most sensible thing, even for him.  “No, no, I’m.  Not fine.  Could you maybe grab an ice pack from the back if you have one?  Please?”

 

John waited a moment, then followed the woman.  She looked a tad startled.  “Sir, I have the ice pack right here, but this is employees only-”

 

_ “Hold still for a moment, and stay quiet.” _  The woman nodded lazily, and her arms went limp.  John stepped up to her and brushed her hair to the side.  John wasn’t very tall, but the woman was still a head below him.   _ “I promise this won’t hurt at all.  In fact, everything will feel really nice, okay?” _

 

He dug a tooth into her neck.  She sighed into his shoulder.  He drew just enough to recover from the break and from cursing her.  He pulled back and flexed his fingers.  “Oh!  A couple more things.”  John produced a bandage from his pocket and stuck it to the barista’s neck.  It had Minnie Mouse on it.   _ “You cut yourself by mistake, and some nice stranger gave you a Band-Aid!  He was super cool, but you have to be careful.  If you talk to anyone else that sounds like me, you won’t hear a word they say.  Just pray for help and run, mmkay?” _

 

John patted her head and took the ice pack.  “Thank you much, miss!  If it looks bad, I’ll visit the doctor in the morning.”  He dropped a twenty on their table on his way out.

 

~~~

 

It was a quarter past seven.  John’s head spun as he ran back to his apartment.  He couldn't keep up with Rose and Dave’s swaying hostilities and friendly overtures at all; even less so when it was directed at him.  He  _ really _ hoped they weren’t going to kill each other after leaving the cafe.

 

While fiddling with his keys, he received a series of texts from Dave.  At least one of them was still alive.

 

_ <3: egbert _

_ you fuckhead _

_ suicidal icicle _

_ i find in the unexplored dredges of my little heart enough magnanimity not to mention anything to rose _

_ and you convince her youre a wolf _

_ those nasty scars _

_ if you were human you wouldnt survive that kind of attack without being infected _

_ and now she wants you dead _

_ i think anyways _

_ cant tell for sure with the penrose stair talk _

_ shes still vomiting word gibberish _

_ either way wtaf _

 

Oh, good.  She was alive, then.  Was she alright, though?  John sent a quick reply and pulled out his luggage dolly.

 

_ ME: rose is a smart girl! she knows better. _

_ i was curious what she would do i guess. _

 

He loaded up crates with the cakes and balanced them all on the dolly.

 

_ <3: she broke your finger _

 

_ ME: :( i’m kinda confused about that. she already realized i don’t suffer from lycanthropy. _

 

_ <3: what no she didnt _

_ she pulled the thornamajig on you _

_ that thing looks like Serious Business _

_ with a capital BS _

 

John tugged his cargo out the door and down the elevator.

 

_ ME: dave, quit being a noob. rose and i both were watching the time. for moonrise. _

 

_ <3: fuck _

_ full moon tonight _

_ i swear we talked about this less than an hour ago too _

_ howd i forget _

 

_ ME: noob!!! _

_ what about you? _

 

_ <3: what about me what _

 

_ ME: do you think wolfblood is a reason to kill someone? _

_ would've been a huge help if rose was around when i first went to college here, so i can only look up to her for it. _

 

_ <3: i dont know _

 

_ ME: have you killed one before? _

 

Dave chose not to grace him with a response, and his phone stayed silent all the way to Jade’s apartment.  The building was just to the west of campus, in a mix of low income housing and student residences.  Were Dave and Rose standard vigilantes, the district would provide them more than enough work to keep them busy.  An unpleasant mix of thieves, sexual predators, and the ilk made the trash-strewn streets their home.

 

However, from the occasional strange scents of passerbys, John suspected the pricier living arrangements in the East district- especially his own building- were more popular for the inhuman.  Races like his especially tended away from squalor.  When one could mesmerize the landlord into hosting them for zero rent, there was little reason  _ not _ to pick the residence with the deluxe rec center and bar.  Not that he personally stiffed his bills.

 

John idled outside Jade’s building, staring at his watch.  7:44 PM.  On one hand, Jade explicitly told him to come before 7, giving the invitation an expiration date more discrete than the rough timestamp of a ‘good night’ or the end of the evening's activities.  On the other, he  _ could  _ interpret the invitation as task dependent.  Until he delivered the cakes, or Jade dismissed the request, he had free rein.

 

It was a stretch, though.  He’d likely have to use another domain curse to get away with it.  Ignoring how absurd the concept was, John addressed the dusty building.   _ “I have a task to complete.  Grant me entrance.” _

 

Tentatively, he toed the threshold.  No reaction.  He confidently strode in.  Up the elevator and down the hall.  He knocked on Jade’s door.  No answer.  Jade  _ did _ say she had to go to work.  John examined the lock.  Was feeding her dog really urgent enough to warrant breaking into her home?  Jade said she was desperate.  It was a little late now- perhaps he should go back for Dave and Rose?  No, if John was about to find what he was expecting inside the apartment, it  _ was  _ an emergency.

 

An ear pressed to the door, he listened for the dog in question.  The creature’s heartbeat was dangerously arrhythmic, and it was munching on something.  Did Jade get ahold of dog food after all?  No, that sounded more like…

 

“Fuck.”  John pulled out his library ID and jimmied it between the door and the wall.  He  _ could  _ twist the domain curse around to open the door, but that would be a waste of power when the lock was so cheaply made.

 

_ Click.   _ John towed his luggage inside, and his eyes were dragged to Bec like a magnet.  He recognized the fluffy creature from the photos Jade sent.  Nonetheless, he was startled.  It wasn't what he was expecting at all.  The dog was  _ huge  _ for a Samoyed; it's shoulders at nearly two and a half feet.  Still, it was clearly dog-shaped, not something else.  Then there was the smell.  It was thick and oily, not dissimilar to the last demon John encountered.  Maybe Dave was right about the thing being a hellbeast.

 

Bec was secured by a length of thick chain in the far corner of the room.  The creature was two inches deep in the only object within its range: the wall.  It was  _ eating  _ the plaster.  Before long, it would chew its way into the neighboring apartment.  Definitely an urgent problem.

 

Bec must've heard him.  It's head whipped around.  It's white hair was so fluffy, John couldn't see it's eyes.  For a moment, it tilted its head in a confused manner while sniffing.  It didn't understand what John was.  Then, it decided it didn't care and tried to leap toward him.  In the comical ways of the canine, it forgot about the chain on its neck and was yanked back mid leap. 

 

It became a more serious problem when Bec started eating its chain.  The restraint gave with a metallic scree.  Part of a chainlink was torn away.  Another bite, and fuck, there went a large scrap of metal down its gullet.  What in hell was this thing?  Becquerel ate through two more links before remembering John.

 

The hellbeast leaped again, this time so fast John was willing to swear it teleported.  Bec crashed into him, knocking him to the floor.  The dog had heavy paws on his shoulders, pinning him to the ground.  Bec went for his throat.

 

John managed to grab the dog’s face just before losing his life.  Despite his strength, the creature easily tore its head free of the vampire’s grip.  John reached for its neck with a vague intention of strangling it.  Bec realized the danger and reared back.  John was on his feet almost before its weight was gone.

 

It definitely dodged an attack there.  Was it intelligent?  Maybe it was coherent enough to receive basic commands.  Most dogs weren't, but John left behind the concept of most dogs the moment this thing ate a solid steel chain.  Becquerel crouched to pounce again.

 

_ “Down.” _  Unlike with Dave, he felt the creature make an effort to shake off the command.  John layered his voice with all the anathema still left from killing the man in jail.  It was a reckless gamble.  He’d have nothing left to fight the thing with if it failed.   _ “I said down, boy.” _

 

Again, Bec fought against the order.  John shaped his will into a spearhead and pressed against the things defenses.  The dog resisted valiantly, then buckled under the pressure.  It laid down and watched him curiously.

 

John panted and sunk to the floor.  He was frankly amazed the beast’s mind wasn't torn to pieces by that onslaught.  Most humans would've been left comatose.  This thing not only survived but still looked completely coherent.  Either it was wicked smart or it had some natural resistance to curses.  Probably both.

 

Bec was fixated on him and drooling.  “Alright, alright.  Fine.”  John picked himself up and pulled his trolley over to the beast.  Bec started to stand.  “ _ No.  Sit.” _  John reaffirmed himself in its head, planting a root deep in its psyche.  Again, he would never dare try such a thing with a human for fear of twisting their personality and breaking them.  The hellbeast was made of stronger stuff.  It sat.   _ “Good boy.” _

 

John put the first cake box on the floor in front of it.  Without bothering to open the box, he told it, “Eat!”

 

Bec pounced on the box, wagging its butt along with its tail.  Now that it was rendered harmless, it was actually rather adorable.  It took its time with the cake, seeming to enjoy itself, then looked up at John for more.  It had crumbs and frosting stuck to its face.  John couldn't even see its eyes through the fluff, and he was  _ still  _ willing to swear that was the cutest puppy dog face he'd ever seen. “Aww, okay.  You can have some more.”

 

John sat across from it and fed it nearly half the cakes like that.  Hopefully, it wouldn't get sick.  Somehow, he doubted the baked goods were worse for it than the plaster.  Finally satiated, Bec sauntered over and rested its head in John’s lap.  It licked its face clean and tried to lick him.  He scratched its ears and listened as the contact calmed its heart rate.  “Good boy, Bec.”  They remained like that until Dave decided the vampire needed a few dozen more text messages.

 

_ <3: egbert i swear to fuck _

_ i get back from helping lalonde calm her tits and what do i find _

_ a locked door and a couch short one vampire _

_ i hope _

_ alright we arent going to play the game where i dont finish my sentences _

_ thats a game for lesser minds _

_ for beings shallower on the plane of cool _

_ for someone thats not dave motherfucking strider _

 

_ ME: hi dave! do you need something? _

_ wow, have i been out for three hours already? _

_ oh, you must be pretty hungry! if you forgot, there are pancakes in the fridge. i also bought stuff for tortillas last week that might still be good. _

_ except i left the door locked, darn it. sorry! _

 

_ <3: even after everything youre still putting in effort to stuff my face _

_ youve got to be fucking with me _

_ and you didnt answer my question _

_ where the fuck are you _

_ john please tell me you ran far far away _

 

_ ME: :/ no, i’m at jade’s. _

 

_ <3: oh shit have you bitten her _

_ i will flip on you so hard they dont have a name for it _

_ were talking dozens of times worse than a swan dive straight from lawful good to chaotic evil that is how hard i will flip alignments _

_ mesmerize her and im dumping all that magnanimity down the drain _

_ i will cut your head from your shoulders _

_ rose will just have to deal _

 

_ ME: d&d, really man? _

_ of course not! no need to worry. _

_ jade isn't even here right now. she forgot to feed her dog before going to work, so i dropped by. _

 

_ <3: thought she didnt want us around her hellhound _

 

_ ME: nah it listens to me. _

_ besides you smell waaay more appetizing than jade and rose. and you're so pretty! :) _

_ obviously, i tasted you first. _

 

_ <3: dude no _

_ weird _

_ gross _

_ and hella no _

_ never mention this again _

 

_ ME: aww, but who else am i supposed to text about it? _

_ you seem to have at least a /LITTLE empathy for all this. _

 

_ <3: i do not fuck you _

_ dont you have some creepy lifesucker chums to gossip about your latest tenderloins _

 

John chewed his lip and rubbed Bec’s muzzle.  This was a stupid conversation to get himself into.  Why he thought for even a fraction of a second that Dave would still be flattered by compliments, he didn't know.  Ugh, would the other two be okay?

 

_ ME: not really. _

 

_ <3: yeah like im buying that _

_ im not petty enough to hunt down your little amigos just because you bit me egbert _

 

_ ME: it’s not that i don't trust you! _

_ it's just that… _

_ well _

_ i kind of only have four friends. _

_ had? _

 

_ <3: only _

_ five vampires is too many as far as im concerned _

 

_ ME: no, dave. i don't think you understand what i’m saying here. _

_ that’s counting you guys. _

 

Dave chose not to text him back.  There wasn't a great response for such a blatantly pitiful plea.  John sighed and buried his face in Bec’s fur.  Even though the thing was a ravenous murderbeast, something about its presence was comforting, assuaging some of the worries buzzing around his skull.  It was probably the undertone of Jade’s smell on it.

 

Since John was still tending to the dog, he didn't get that tingling at the back of his neck warning him that his invitation was about to expire.  Still, he really ought to go home.  It would be better if Dave didn't show up and get mauled by this brute.  Or kill it. Or generally decide Jade was suspicious.

 

Bec whined when John stood up.  It prodded his hand.  “Aww, I’m sorry, buddy.  I have to go now.  Hopefully, I’ll be back tomorrow for tacos, alright?”  The beast nuzzled him some more and tried to follow him out the door.   _ “No.  Stay here until Jade comes back to let you out.  And don't eat anything but the cakes.” _

 

Back at his apartment, John immediately noticed Dave’s shoes and apple blossom signature.  His gaze naturally followed his nose to the pale figure lying face down on the sofa.  A cartoon with brightly colored characters was playing on the tv.  Evidently, Dave did not need a key to get in.

 

“Hi?”

 

Dave muttered a greeting into his pillow. “Sup.”

 

John wondered if this meant the line-of-sight rule was voided.  The other didn't even bother looking up at him.  “I'm grabbing a snack from the kitchen, okay?”

 

“Mm.”

 

John walked heavily, just to be sure Dave knew where he was. In the other room, he ate his way through several apples, an entire block of cheese, and a bowl of cereal.  He hated exerting himself like he did at Jade’s.  It left him hungry in every sense of the word.

 

Again, stepping loudly back to the living room, John addressed the motionless lump on his couch.  “Is Rose alright?”

 

“Nnn, prolly.  Snapped outta Escher tongue.”

 

“Oh, good.  Well, I have to get up early.  You should go to bed.”

 

“Mmrf.”

 

John noticed Dave still had his shades on despite being planted face first in a pillow.  “You're obviously tired.  Go.”

 

“-Nn don wanna ger rup.  Comfy.  You go.”

 

“Dave, your little shrine is still in my room.  I can't.”

 

“Ss sleep onna floor.”

 

“Oh, for goodness sake.  Fine!  If you want to rest  _ completely exposed _ when you have a perfectly safe bed mere feet away, be my guest.”  Since his blankets were unavailable, John grabbed towels from the bathroom; several clean and the two emanating apple blossoms and wildflowers.  He noticed his sunscreen and eye drops on the bathroom counter with new labels in bright red sharpie reading “DANGER”.  He grabbed those, too.  John dumped the towels and bottles on the floor in the hall.

 

Dave finally mustered enough energy to move his head and make eye contact with the vampire.  Exhaustion peppered his face.  “You weren't planning on turning yourself in at all.”

 

John eyed the other.  “What do you mean?  I went with you to see Rose.”

 

“The mirror.”

 

John smiled at him sadly.  “Your reflection could be incriminating, too.  Or are you human after all, holy one?”

 

“Mm.”  Dave bowed his head.  “And the way you spoke to her.  You played the conversation in your favor and tested her.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“You're not.  You went into that cafe expecting to live.”

 

“Hoping to.”

 

“Planning to.  What did you intend to do?”

 

John argued, “Nothing!  I gave in.”

 

Dave pushed himself partway up.  “So you were  _ hoping  _ I’d protect you?”

 

“I don’t know.  Maybe?”

 

Dave raised his voice.  “How could you have any faith in me?  After what you did to me, you didn't deserve any of that.  You can't possibly be so- so  _ entitled.” _

 

Deliberately projecting all his movements, John stepped closer and pulled Dave’s glasses off for him.  The shades were carefully stowed on the end table.  “There, that should be more comfortable.”  John hummed, thinking.  “Entitled…  Lately, I absolutely can’t stand it if any of you three need something, if I remember that you aren’t interminable.  Since we’re friends?  That’s how all this works, right?  Is it too much to hope for the same thing back?”

 

Dave snarled, “It’s too much to hope we’re still friends at all.  You  _ tried to enslave me.” _

 

“...Oh, right.  Nearly forgot about that.  I always thought the cannibalism part is a little more dubious.”

 

“You.   _ You. _  Fuck.  I’m too tired to deal with this,” Dave groaned into his pillow, burying his face and muffling his words once again.  “Jus’ lemme ger sum Γ0> **DAMN** sleep.”

 

Both of them flinched.  John’s cheek stung like he'd been slapped.  Dave was rubbing his neck, suggesting he experienced something similar.  John questioned him, “What was that for?”

 

The pale boy groaned again.  “Habit, sorry.”

 

“Pff, Dave.  Stop.  This goes beyond noobness.  How does something like you get into the habit of using unholy words?  And with enough force to hurt yourself, no less.”

 

“Hurt?  I’m perfectly fine,” Dave lied.

 

_ “Damn you to hell.” _  The other jumped back and nearly fell off the couch.  “Liar, liar!”

 

Dave cradled his head with one hand and threw his pillow at John with the other.  John caught it and dived to his pile of towels.  He muffled his ears with it in case Dave decided to return fire.  Mmuh, the sudden aroma enveloping him was intoxicating.

 

The pale boy got up to turn the lights and tv off, grabbed another pillow from John’s room, and laid back down.  On the sofa.  Ass.  Hole.

 

“So we’re clear.  I let you live; anything you touch is my responsibility.  Kill anyone in the middle of the night; it's your head.”

 

“Alrighty, thanks!  Night, night.”

 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Note on the important greco-1337:  
> $0ノ0８0: Sojobo  
> 作|U7#|U: Fluthlu  
> Basically, unless you are intent on making plot theories, all you need to know for now is that both Dave and the fic itself indulge in syncretism, and the details will be clarified later. On that note, story time:
> 
> I was writing content for Chapter 3 of this fic during a multi-hour trip via car. Here I sit, Googling various religious symbols including Buddhist temples to attempt to get a better idea of the imagery I desire for Dave’s pocket shrine. I'm torn, since I want to make sure I appropriately convey such a syncretic belief system without being rude. At that very moment, the GPS informs us, “Your destination is on the left.” Lo and behold, we are not at the Department of Vehicle Safety. Rather, we arrived at a gargantuan, lavish motherfucking Buddhist temple, by mere chance having the address which my father mistakenly entered in our GPS. Bear in mind, the population of practicing Buddhists in my region is roughly 1%. I cannot even begin to estimate the odds of such a happenstance. Inspiration for said chapter--> Lafiet’s assistance with gauging reader reaction and some random as fuck temple.
> 
> Thoughts, opinions, critique? Honestly, don't underestimate the usefulness of a good slam session for a writer trying to determine wtf they are doing.


	5. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't invite your stabby friend to dinner.

Monday morning held a striking resemblance to Sunday.  A harsh light danced across the apartment at dawn, causing its vampire resident to retreat under a towel.  “DAVE.  CLOSE THE FUCKING CURTAINS, WOULD YOU?  I’M SERIOUSLY GOING TO LOSE MY EYESIGHT.”

 

As Dave was already up and out of the apartment before daybreak, there was no answer.  How did the kid do it?  John was famished, and he was still having trouble convincing himself to roll out of his makeshift bed.  Muttering, he dug under his pillow for the eyedrops.  Administering them without opening his eyes turned out to be impossible, a fact that should've been obvious before he got the blue solution all over his face.  Only after stripping, showering, and reapplying the solution in the dark of the bathroom did he realize he had nothing but the clothes he’d worn for the past two days.  Darn Dave and his little shrine.

 

John held his shirt up to his face.  Ugh.  Though his sweat glands were long since sterile, eliminating body odor, the necrosis that clung to him if he didn’t stay clean was objectively worse.  After reluctantly dressing, John was finally ready to head out.  He glanced at the clock.  Less than 3 hours until his first class.  That was cutting it rather tight, all things considered.

 

John hummed to the elevator’s tune as he descended to the parking garage.  Noticing how close the neighboring truck was to his Audi, he scanned the silver paint for any dings or scratches.  Smooth as his roommate’s skin.  John patted the S4 fondly.  Before hopping in, he buzzed Rose.

 

_ ME: morning, ms. lalonde. hope you’re feeling better. _

 

_ RS: You never cease to confound me, Mr. Egbert.  I simultaneously feel obliged to return the greeting and as though such a gesture would be supremely presumptuous of me.  Care you not that I broke your finger yesterday?  Instead, you inquire after my own well being. _

 

Darn, John was off his game.  He was too preoccupied fretting over the other three to remember his finger was supposed to be broken.

 

_ ME: /SHRUG. you were really sick and confused. _

 

_ RS: Are you making excuses for me, Mr. Egbert? _

 

_ ME: nope, not at all. but i have some errands to run before class.  i don't really have time to talk about all that. _

 

_ RS: Then I will be prompt; I have resumed perfect order this fine morning. _

 

_ ME: good to hear, thank you. _

 

_ RS: Of course.  We’ll pick up this discussion another time, I presume? _

 

_ ME: if you think we should.  cya later! _

 

_ RS: Ciao. _

 

~~~

 

After tracking down a finger splint and new clothes, John could only spare an hour at the Snow Pollen Municipal Hospital.  He wasn't able to visit very many patients, and he felt drained.  By no means was he ready for the day ahead.  What if Rose tried to kill someone, or Jade had another insane pet hiding somewhere, or Dave got into something else caustic, or- or any of the other misfortunes that tended to fall on John some time during the week, andhewasrunningonhalfempty-

 

Stop.  No anxiety attacks at eight in the morning.  He had to get to class.  What did people always say?  Take a few deep breaths.  Ha.  Like that would help when his lungs were three pounds of dead weight.  John gave it a try anyways.

 

He made it through Calculus without getting too frazzled, but he started locking up while pushing his way to Journalism.  Multiple times, he stumbled into a student and dropped his things.  Why was supernatural grace not a thing he could have?  Class started, and he was still several minutes from the building.  His phone rattled in his pocket.  Lest it add minutes to his tardiness, he briefly skimmed the messages.

 

_ JD: john! please please please be okay. _

_ if you had to disappear, i hope youre safe! _

_ though id rather you didnt leave. :( _

_ i saw all those empty cake boxes when i got home, and i want to thank you in person! _

 

_ <3: why arent you in class _

_ tell me you made like the roadrunner and skedaddled _

 

_ RS: Those errands of yours running over the allotted time for them? _

 

The rest of the messages were strung into a group dialogue rather than separate texts.

 

_ <3: yo i see yall texting _

_ anyone hear back from egbert _

 

_ JD: no :( _

 

_ RS: I have not. _

_ Jade, you look extremely perturbed.  I wouldn't worry so much.  I doubt this absence is related to Feferi’s case.  John seemed rather busy last I spoke with him.  That’s all. _

 

_ JD: oh. _

_ how recently was that? _

 

_ RS: This morning. _

 

_ JD: did he seem alright? _

 

_ <3: sleepin like the devil at noon when i left _

 

_ ME: omg _

 

_ <3: eb _

 

_ ME: slow down _

 

_ RS: Are either of you surprised my conjecture was validated? _

 

_ ME: i can’t read this fast. _

 

_ <3: gotta wrap this up team _

_ another minute and vantas is gonna blow a fuse on us _

_ fill us in quick egbert _

 

_ RS: I can't imagine why the instructor would choose now to react.  You use your phone in class daily. _

 

_ ME: i’m almost to class. guess i’ll read these later. _

 

_ <3: hey jade you still in there _

_ you look like a lost puppy _

_ or _

_ wait shit _

 

John arrived partway through a particularly energetic rant from their instructor.  “-and if you already have it stuffed in your tiny thinkpan that the author is spewing raw hoofbeast leavings, then it does not matter one iota whether said author has five professional degrees with highest honors or they're posting their material on a blog as McTallPants.  You  _ do not _ use their material as a source.  Find something correct that doesn’t baselessly degrade portions of the population.”

 

Heads swiveled as the door opened.  Jade stood so quickly, she knocked her chair over.  She didn’t stop to pick it up, opting to tackle John.  Her arms locked around him in a vice grip.  John didn't need to breath anyways.  He returned the hug.  Mmm, she was so warm, and the gesture made him feel oddly safe.

 

**-|!$73ν |!$73ν |!$73ν |!$73ν-**

 

“John!  I was so worried.  There were those scary things you were saying.  Then, I got home from work and saw you fed Bec.  What were you thinking?  Ohmygosh, did he bite you?  ...John?”

 

“-gghk.”

 

“Oh, sorry!”  Jade loosened her grip, though didn't let go.  Air flooded John’s lungs, and his eyes widened.  The scent of a vampire covered the girl.  He nuzzled his face into her neck.  Oh lord, that was his own signature, and it was strong.  He must've made contact with her sometime in the past day.  But when?  He was  _ certain _ there weren't any new gaps in his memory; that he had total control of his judgement since being starved and drugged in the police station.

 

The instructor took an audible breath, preparing to chew them out at high volume.  Then, Karkat released the breath, and said, “Egbert, Harley, please move that to the hall or take a seat.”

 

“Sorry, Mr. Vantas!”

 

John let go of the girl.  “We should sit for now.  Later.”

 

Jade nodded, eyes going uncharacteristically blank.  She righted her leveled chair and sat mechanically.  John followed suit.  Dave scraped his desk over inch by inch, prompting another glare from the instructor.

 

Dave tugged his older classmate closer painfully by the ear and muttered, “I explicitly told you not to fuck with Jade.”

 

**|00く Rose**

**Look what they did to your little friend-thing**

 

“Oh, c’mon.  I can give her a hug,” John protested, a little too loud.

 

Dave was better at volume control, and Rose didn't catch the response.  “I know the signs.  You put her under a spell, probably bit her, you dirty lifesucker.”

 

“I didn't-”  Except Dave was right.  Jade responded to John’s suggestion with perfect obedience and an absent expression, and his mark clung to her.  The conclusion was natural, albeit impossible.

 

Still, it wouldn't hurt to prove it false.  John covered his mouth with a hand so Rose couldn't lipread and hissed, “Jade.”  Dave could barely hear him despite being inches from John’s face.  On the other hand, the girl in question easily picked up her name and looked at them.  Her ears must be as sharp as John’s.  “Do you know Ellington’s Mood Indigo?  Yes or no?”

 

“-and it will go a long ways to support your thesis, I promise-”

 

Voice flat, Jade said aloud, “No.”

 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘NO’, HARLEY?”  Karkat realized Jade wasn't looking at him. “Oh.  I’d rather you text than talk in class, please.  As I was saying-”  He went back to his diagram on the board.

 

Again nearly silent, John instructed the girl, “Whistle the first stanza of Mood Indigo for me.”

 

The tune rolled easily from the girl’s mouth, the notes provided by John’s will.  Rose studied Jade in confusion, and the instructor halted mid-pace.  One foot half-off the ground, he fixed the girl with the brand of glares that can quell not only classroom insubordination but entire rebellions.  “HARLEY, CUT THE BULGE CHAFING NONSENSE.”

 

Without looking away from John, the girl whistled the last note of the piece.  Then, she waited silently for more instructions.  Karkat fumed when she didn’t so much as acknowledge him.  He bit back what was likely a stream of choice insults and resumed the lecture.

 

No.  No, no, no, no.  Jade,  _ why? _  That was impossible.

 

Unless his initial guess about the girl’s identity was closer than he thought.

 

Abject horror stretched across John’s face.  It  _ was _ him.  He inadvertently forced his will deep into the girl’s mind while he was feeding Bec, and he had no idea of the extent of the consequences.  Regardless, this was so much worse than the terrors he imagined when he had his panic attack earlier.

 

Dave frowned, surprised.  “Egbert.  Did you just prove you cursed her?”

 

“I thought- I- I don’t understand.”  John hung his head.  “I’m so sorry, Dave.  It was an accident.  I didn't even realize until now.”

 

Too quick to be seen, Strider jabbed something sharp in John’s thigh, then withdrew it.  At audible volume, John cried, “Ah f- f-  _ why?!” _

 

_ “It was an accident,” _ Strider spat.

 

**SEE Rose**

**They're violent little Uνν3€3$$4ρ¥ $741ν$**

 

John pressed a hand to his thigh, willing the muscle and skin to knit itself together.  Albeit not knowing what happened, Rose stood abruptly.  “Strider, I warned you.  Back off.”

 

Three, two, one, the instructor exploded.  “I AM TRYING TO SHOVE SOMETHING RESEMBLING KNOWLEDGE UP THE CHUTES OF A CROWD OF PANDEAD WRIGGLERS, A TASK THAT IS ALREADY WEIGHED DOWN BY ENDLESS COMPLICATIONS WITHOUT CONSTANT INTERRUPTIONS.  IF ANY OF YOU FOUR WANT EVEN A CHANCE OF PASSING THIS COURSE, YOU WILL GET YOUR ASSES OUT OF MY CLASSROOM, AND YOU WILL NOT COME BACK UNTIL THE LECTURE IS OVER.  THEN WE WILL TALK.  AM I CLEAR?”  Then, Karkat realized he slipped up and proceeded to bang his head against his podium.

 

John limped on his first two steps, but managed a normal gait the rest of the way.  In the hall, he sunk down against the wall and buried his face in his hands.  He heard three pairs of feet join him.  The quietest pair- Strider- flopped down next to him.

 

**Defend yourself**

**The crowling snuck into your very soul through that foul pact**

**He burns usmeyou€!ρ€|3**

**GET HIM OUT**

**KILL #!W**

 

“Well, this is fucking great,” the pale boy groaned, “Temporary truce, Lalonde.  We need to fix Jade.”

 

“I couldn't agree more, Strider.”  Rose snapped near Jade’s ear and waved a hand in front of the girl’s blank eyes. Jade didn't react at all.  “I’d infer some type of spell that responds to a trigger, considering she was fine until just now.  Further, given how thoroughly her own will is subverted, the attacker likely used a formula to borrow from the mind of a greater being, not unlike my own magic.”

 

“...no.”

 

“What was that, John?”

 

John peered up at the girls through his fingers.  “She was hypnotized with a basic command by a vampire.  Only, it's rooted deep in her psyche.”

 

He could see each emotion flicker over Rose’s face.  Shock over John’s flat footed reaction and tone of authority, desperation as she sought a rationalization, relief when she found one.  In a breath, it was all locked under her unperturbed demeanor.  “Don't be absurd.  Was Strider telling you more about the dubious?  I suspect he obfuscated some of the information.  While this is admittedly similar to the powerful hypnosis utilized by the undead, Jade’s symptoms appear to differ in that she's reacting to outside stimuli.”  Rose was blatantly choosing to ignore the possibility that the hypnotist was present then.

 

**Your TINY MIND is so tangled**

**Youwe easily see death and undeath on the necrotic one**

**Yet you refuse to know it**

**SPAR!νΓ !7 !$ UNNACCEPTABLE**

 

John allowed the girl her broken rationale.  They didn't really need another breakdown from her.  He also had no idea what went down after leaving Nannaquin’s.  Something was different about the way Dave and Rose moved around each other.  There was a shared rhythm to their steps, like partners in a ballad.  It was as unsettling as it was strange.

 

“Does it matter what sort of spell it is?  I can probably wash it away regardless,” Dave offered.

 

“Wash it away,” John echoed.  “As in dunking her head in holy water.”

 

Dave pulled a seltzer from his backpack.  “I prefer a quick spritz.”

 

_ Motherfuck. _  That would fry her face, and it was John’s fault for cursing her.  He needed to think of something, and quick.

 

Rose provided his out.  “Please don't act brashly, David.  The hypnosis itself is the only clue we have about the perpetrator and why this was done.”  She produced a thorn that looked suspiciously like the one Dave confiscated.  He returned it to her last night?  The spellcaster moved toward Jade.

 

_ No, mine. _  “Wait!  What are you going to do to her?”

 

“I intend to stick a probe into her psyche.  The information such a method can provide is often useful though limited proportionally to how much damage one is willing to do- obviously none in this case.”

 

**Rose ρ0$3**

**¥0U ARE NOT THE JURY**

 

John asked, “Is that… inherently holy?  What kind of information?”  Please let Dave think he was asking for his own sake.

 

Rose pinned him with a long stare.  Sometimes, she was harder to read than his roommate.  “Inherently, no.  As for the type of information, that is a surprise I eagerly await.”

 

This time, John made no move to stop the spellcaster.  The alraune thorn was leveled at Jade’s chest, and a thick vine spanned the inches between them.  John fought the urge to look away.  He could easily see through the tendril, yet it was black as sin.  It brought back a deep fear of shadows in the night, something the vampire forgot he had since dying, and his skin itched with an echo of a cold sweat.  One blink, the writhing mass looked like fog, the next ink.  Then stone and again fog.

 

Rose’s frown grew longer with each passing minute.  Suddenly, the mass splintered into a dozen spikes aimed at Jade’s chest.  Rose cursed and yanked the thorn back.  The spikes snapped and dissolved, but not before one punctured Jade’s skin.  A red blot formed on her shirt.  The girl didn't even blink in her dazed state.

 

Seriously guys?  Can we go five minutes without someone getting stabbed?  It's a Monday.

 

**Harmless ??**

**W#AT does it matter**

**W3us slaykillpurifyconsume not youus**

**Do you M!$# for AGENCY ??**

**For BLAM3 ??**

**4 B|00D On your hands**

**no**

**stop making** that sound

get the crow out

he burns usyou

rose please

wait

...

 

“Jade!”  John stood as quickly as he could humanly get away with.  The others were faster.

 

Rose and Dave moved as one.  For a moment, John would swear on his life and death, the silent rhythm the teens shared was perfectly audible.  There were sharp thrums playing counter to a heavy bass.  The beat pulsed in time with their hearts, an utterly mouthwatering sound to the vampire.

 

The pale boy took a step forward as the spellcaster took a step back.  Dave reached for Jade with a healing prayer on his lips.  Rose mirrored him perfectly, extending a hand to him with a soft expletive on her tongue.  They halted, the girl’s left hand over the boy’s right.  The illusion of music disappeared, but their pulses remained in sync.

 

“Don't,” Rose commanded.  “The wound will close in a moment.”

 

Dave brushed her off to examine the hypnotized girl.  “You had total control over the calamari horror show last night, Lalonde.  What gives?”

 

She tucked the thorn away.  “I always have a firm grasp on my actions.  Please inquire no further.”

 

Surprisingly, Dave backed off.  “Cool.  What did brain matter deep diving tell you?”  The glasses made it difficult to tell, but he seemed to have his eyes glued to Jade’s wound.  

 

“I should have regarded the insight offered by John more carefully.  He is completely correct.”

 

“I coulda told you that.  Going back in for more info, or can I wash it off now?”

 

“That would do more harm than good.”

 

“What do you mean, Lalonde?  Harley is pretty much drooling in her shoes, braindead.”

 

“That is preferable to the alternative.  If I remove the curse, I’ll kill her.”

 

Fuck,  _ does she know? _

 

Dave casually leaned his weight against John.  The gesture seemed friendly, but the vampire knew better.  “Wasn't aware hypnosis could be lethal.  The sewer scum that did this to her deserves to be flayed thrice over.  Wouldn't you agree, Lalonde?”  

 

John flinched from both the threat and the sudden contact with half the synchronized pulses.  The quiet contraction of the upper heart, the louder thump of the lower heart, the murmur as the organ paused for a fraction of a second; it all was perfectly timed.  The doubled rhythm made the sound much more difficult to ignore.

 

Rose gave them a sharklike grin with a manic glint.  She was definitely cracking again.  “I’d enthusiastically sign on for the witch hunt under most circumstances.  However, even if I had any hints about the creature that cursed her, this seems to be the product of good intentions and a misunderstanding.”

 

“An accident.”

 

“Precisely that.  The verbal command on Jade is  _ down, boy.  Sit.  Good boy. _  Relatively a harmless curse if it weren't branched into every level of her thought process.”

 

Dave stared at her, flabbergasted.  “The perp was trying to curse her dog.”

 

John grumbled, “This is all so stupid.”

 

“Egbert, take a wild guess,” Dave said.  “Why would anyone curse a dog?  Why?”

 

“Maybe it was scary!”

 

After a pause, Dave broke down laughing, and his entire demeanor changed.  He laughed and laughed and laughed until the sound couldn't be described as anything but hysterical, and he was doubled over on his knees.  Finally, he broke off coughing.  The tension in his shoulders was entirely gone when he stood.  Though his expression was still guarded, it was softer.

 

“Dave, are you okay?”  John asked.

 

“ノ3$- Jegus, why do I keep forgetting how much of a fucking dork you are?”  He said ‘dork’ like it was the natural opposite of vampire.  “Are you spooked by dogs?”

 

“No!”  John couldn’t maintain an indignant tone.  Fuck, it hurt having his- having Dave look at him like a stranger.  He wanted to cry with relief now that the other eased up.  “Maybe a little bit.”

 

“Well, shit, I didn't mean-”  Dave broke off when the door swung open.  Students poured out, shoving each other in an attempt to escape the classroom sooner.  John refused to think of them as adults when they couldn't coordinate such a simple task.

 

“Would you look at the time?  The lecture has concluded.  We ought to go speak with Mr. Vantas now.”  When the crowd cleared, they headed back in, Jade obediently following John as thralls tended to.

 

The instructor was wound tight with tension, hunched over the podium.  It was surprising he didn't pull a muscle every time he stuffed another paper in his bag.  Or perhaps pop a vein.

 

Rose took the lead.  “We offer our sincere apologies for the disruptions during the lecture.”

 

Karkat scoffed.  “I've read your papers, Ms. Lalonde.  If a word out of your mouth is sincere, then I am the living incarnation of tranquility.  I have achieved such a profound height of calm and rational, I should be  _ paid _ for it.  Paid.”

 

Rose winced at the reference.  “I admit I wasn't expecting you to catch the undertone of criticism in my first paper.”

 

“UNDERTONE? MAYBE IF YOUR SPONGE CLOTS WERE RIPPED HALF OUT YOUR HEAR DUCTS, BARELY LEFT WITH ANY FUNCTION, THEN IT WOULD ONLY BE SUGGESTIVE.”

 

Dave stepped on Rose’s foot.  Somehow, the girl blended with the motion.  “Shut it.  What if he doesn't take our makeup work?”

 

Karkat huffed.  “I wouldn't fail students over something so petty, especially not after the mire of toxic waste you’ve already been dragged through this month.  On the contrary, you can come and interview the CAFC now.  If you have time.”

 

John asked, “Now now?  We aren’t in trouble?”  Discipline was so different in this generation.

 

“That's what I said.  I eat lunch in the CAFC office after Journalism.  Didn't bother reading the email I sent?”

 

“Oh nooo.  I had so many emails, I didn't get to it.  Now I don't have any interview questions prepared.”

 

The instructor shrugged.  “The expectations aren't that high for the project.”

 

“Okay, fine.  Yeah.  I'm available now.  Just need to pick up food quick.  You guys?”

 

Rose and Dave concurred.  Thus, their angry teacher accompanied them to the cafeteria.

 

~~~

 

After around ten minutes without hearing the vampire’s voice, Jade snapped out of her stupor.  She pin wheeled her arms stop herself from tripping on her feet.  Confused blink.  Not saying a word, John shoved the lunch he bought for her into her hands and retreated behind Dave.

 

“Guys?”

 

Eternally talented with malarkey, Dave was the first to provide an explanation.  “Harley, you have narcolepsy?  Packed with more energy than a can of Monster one second and sleepwalking the next.  What gives?”

 

“I was sleepwalking?  What about class?”

 

Karkat was baffled.  “You're trying to tell me you were asleep this whole time.  Even for the Mood Indigo bit.”  Yes!  He recognized the song. 

 

Jade was baffled right back.  “Uh, hi Mr. Vantas.”  She whispered to Dave, “What's he doing here?   _ What did I do? _ ”

 

The second question was ignored.  “Vantas is our free ticket to chat it up with.  With.  Shit.  I don't remember what the email said.  Who are we even interviewing?”

 

Rose turned a curious eye on the instructor.  “I was wondering that myself.  There aren't any clubs on campus registered under ‘CAFC’, and you repeatedly neglected to expand the acronym for us.”

 

Karkat blushed from nose to ear almost instantly.  It was kind of impressive.  “I may have left out the name because the whole thing sounds like bugwinged lunacy if you hear about it from anyone but our Vice President.”

 

“From your tone, I presume this organization allows graduate students, and you are a member?”

 

“...President.”

 

“Pardon, are we interviewing you?  Forewarning would've been beneficial.”

 

Karkat couldn't physically flush any deeper, but he looked more flustered.  “HECK NO.  That'll be with the VP, Terezi.  She's a grad student in the law school and the mad conductor behind all these court case pit stains.”

 

“I see.”  Rose didn't sound so sure.

 

Karkat led them into K. Ivory Hall.  “Alright.  The club was originally named CAFC and reads like Kafka.  Our Secretary has a puddle of fermented sludge for a brain and registered us as CFC this year.”

 

Of course.  CFC.  Why would it be anything else?

 

John didn't have to look to know the other three recognized the name.  As a demon, a demon hunter, and something like both, scoping out any local organizations and institutions related to their existence was common sense.  The members were usually fanatics, nothing more.  Still, one couldn't be too careful.

 

Down the hall, down the stairs.  Karkat stopped in front of an unassuming door.  “Alright, this is it.  If any of you laugh, there will be tongues ripped from heads, thrown in the dirt, stomped into red pulp, and slurped up like the sweetest slushee.”

 

The vampire could already smell it.  These weren't fanatics.

 

“Welcome to the Cryptozoology and Folklore Club, home of a handful of supernatural obsessed bilgewater maggots I deign to call my hatefriends.”

 

None of them laughed.

 

~~~

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks kindly for your patience if you are returning and a warm welcome if you recently delved into this work! It survived final exams, moving, a family death, my purchase of a Nintendo Switch, two conventions, a couple ill friends, a new management position, and a new job. Thus, I wouldn't be surprised if it survives to completion.
> 
> Though my outline is relatively detailed, the timeline is vague, and we most likely won't get to everyone. So. Any votes on which character to bring in next? (Out of the Red Team, Jane, Jake, and Casey.) Terezi is happening since that bit is already written. (( I suppose one can also push for any of the beta kids, but they're already prevalent. So.)) Anyone have any particular ships you want to see? The dynamic is really loose as of yet for everyone that's not our four kids or Kanaya.
> 
> Additionally, this is my first chapter of any fic to ever be beta’d. Much obliged to my lovely partner Kalvinator for keeping Rose's arc on track. :3
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this installment. <> Flare


	6. 5: In which Terezi interacts directly with the narrative before it is hijacked by Dave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Take a needle to your torn love; stitch it back together.

A benefit of being on the basement level, the club office was large.  A fridge stood in the corner, from which Karkat pulled his lunch.  He set it on a card table and waved to the folding chairs.  He was the only one that sat.   The rest of them faced the other door, unanimously tense.  In the side room, four heartbeats were audible underneath game sound effects.  Noticing their attention, Karkat pointed and explained, “The sofa and consoles are set up in there; that’s why the main room is abandoned.”

 

A stack of board games teetered precariously next to the club’s library.  The titles on the bookshelf were largely mundane.  Cartography, herpetology and entomology, pet caretaking, art, fashion, romance, historical journals.  There were dozens of books, all labeled with notes, but none referencing cryptozoology or folklore directly.  John wasn’t surprised, though curious.

 

Karkat warned them, “When you ask about the club, they'll all blather on about some inane urban legends like they're real.  Please try not to make fun of them.  Terezi though-”

 

“We can heaaaaaaaar you, nubs!”

 

Karkat ignored whoever yelled. “Terezi knows what she's talking about.”

 

Dave tapped his knee nervously.  “You know, Prof-”  “It’s not Prof.”  “You know, Vantas, I realized I am completely fine with starting this whole project over with a new thesis.”  Rather than the exit, he edged toward the game room.  Jade grabbed his arm.

 

Karkat shrugged.  “Whatever you prefer.  Heck, maybe I’ve finally lost it, the court case isn't relevant to your thesis and research at all, and I am once again wearing my opinion as a knit foot cover and shoving it down my own throat along with the encompassed appendage.”

 

“You would hardly be the first instructor I've had to make an unreasonable conclusion out of apathy,” Rose said dryly. “Admittedly, I too find myself uncertain about this endeavor.”

 

“Hey, this whole teaching thing is important to me, not to mention the thesis topic, and I won't have anyone-”

 

The game room door slammed open.  A creature of nightmare walked through the opening.  Spindly limbs were coated with skin the color and texture of gravel.  Sharp teeth protruded from a jaw that unhinged too far.  Claws shaped for gutting curved over an antique walking cane.  Wicked sharp horns jutted out from coal black hair.  And the eyes.  They were the same red as Dave’s; not the irises, either.  The entire eyeballs were glazed over with blood.  Some of it leaked out the corners.

 

Then the more human features registered.  Her red glasses were perched in her hair, and a business suit hugged what little shape she had.  A briefcase was cradled lovingly in her arm.  She was a feral beauty tamed, a demon dressed for court, the Blind Justice Terezi-

 

“Terezi Pyrope at your service.”  She winked at John.

 

-Pyrope, a woman widely recognized as a champion among the lowly- And she was already reading John’s thoughts, wasn't she?  Her grin widened, threatening to split her face in two, and she nodded to him.  Well, that was embarrassing.

 

Jade was the first to react proper.  She pulled Dave behind her and spread an arm protectively in front of Rose.  A snarl ripped from her throat.  Of course.  She had no idea that those two were capable of defending themselves, that they've likely killed things similar to the Blind Justice.  They were readying for it even now, prepping a prayer and a thorn respectively.

 

Terezi opened her mouth, surprised, and eyed Dave and Rose.

 

And now the demon knew.  Fuck.  If she decided they acted unjustly in their murders…  John slid a foot forward and pulled all his buried possessiveness to the front of his mind.  NO, MINE, BACK OFF.  TouchthemandI’lldragyouintothesunlightandeatyouwhileyouburn.  They're precious, they're mine, they're my people.  Theyhateme ortheyshould Jadeistoonice forgivememaybe otherswon’t cursedher doesn'tmatter stilleatyouMissJustitia don'thurtthem.

 

“Hehe, Karkat, how do you always find the most _interesting,_ new club members?” Terezi asked.

 

“WHAT?  THEY AREN’T JOINING.  THEY’RE DOING A PROJECT.”

 

“Really?  They're all _very_ invested in urban mythos.”

 

“INVESTED?  DOES QUIVERING IN A HUDDLE STRIKE YOU AS INVESTED? YOU COULD HAVE WAITED UNTIL AFTER I INTRODUCED YOU.  YOU’RE SCARING THEM.”  Not that any of them were quivering.  Bristling might be a better word.

 

Dave flinched and snapped, “Get the fuck out of my head.”

 

Karkat stared dumbfounded.  The demon cackled.  “I like you, Mr. Vanilla Milkshake.  Your skull is so hard I can't get in!”  Her tongue darted out.  “Doesn't matter.  John here reads like a picture book, easy as can be.  He must be stupid.”

 

“TEREZI, THESE ARE MY _STUDENTS._ FOR FUCK’S SAKE, DON’T ASSAULT THEM WITH YOUR MIND VOODOO.  OR WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS.”

 

“Fine, fine.  Crush all the fun with your clawless nubs.”  Jade snarled again as Terezi brushed past them.  The demoness pulled a bottle of redpop from the refrigerator and started chugging it.

 

“I’M SO FUCKING SORRY ABOUT HER.  HONEST, SHE DOESN'T MEAN ANY HARM.”

 

“Oh, but I do!”

 

“STUFF IT IN A SACK AND BURY IT FAR AWAY AND DEEP UNDER THE LEAVINGS OF A PINK FATBEAST WHERE NO ONE WILL FIND YOUR MURDERED SENSE OF HUMOR.”

 

“Hehe, but Karkat, I've been avoiding these two all semester, and you brought them straight to me.  So rude!”

 

“WHAT?”

 

“The blondes!  Their brains are bubbling with gooey murderous intent.  Smells like chocolate from a mile away, so I've been dodging them.”  Terezi tipped her bottle higher, spilling soda on her suit.

 

 _“WHAT?!”_  Karkat looked them over.  His disbelief morphed into terror as he finally realized the four of them were not scared but fighting tense.  “OH MY LORD.  YOU ACTUALLY KILLED FEFERI.”

 

One wouldn't have to strain their ears to hear a mouse cough in the stunned silence.  Even the three people in the adjacent room froze.  Several confused glances were exchanged.

 

The logical jump there wasn't obvious to John.   _Karkat decided Rose and Dave are murderhobos or…? C’mon, any hints, Miss Mind Reader?_

 

Terezi shrugged.

 

_What does “murderous intent” even mean in that context?  Neither of them knew Feferi, so they didn't have any sort of intent at all.  You should really clarify that you meant exorcism.  I cursed Jade by mistake, and now my tongue is tied.  Hearing her hypnotist’s voice will put her in a daze, if you didn't know.  Help me out here._

 

The girl shook her head and held a finger to her lips.

 

_It's a secret?  Ohhh, Karkat is in the dark about some things.  But he knows what you are, right?  A stained thing.  You're kinda obvious here._

 

Terezi nodded.

 

_Sigh.  I guess he's not wrong with his accusation.  We’re the stupid dumbs that bloodedhealedburnedburned Feferi when we could've saved her.  But I think Mr. Vantas just misinterpreted what you said?_

 

The demon tilted her head, curious.  “Nope!  Seems their hands are clean of that particular death.”

 

“...OH.  MY BAD."

 

John sidestepped his friends and sat at the table, a pleasant smile painted on his lips.  Terezi cracked her jaw open in a toothy mockery of his expression and sat across from him.  Mutually, they extended hands and shook, her claws pricking his cold skin.

 

_John Egbert, owner of Crockercorps.  A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Justitia._

 

“Hehe, my reputation precedes me.  You can call me Terezi.  Nice to meet you!”

 

Ah!  Where are my manners?  This is-

 

Jade grabbed John’s shoulder and yanked him back.  The chair dragged on the floor with a loud _cree._  “John, be careful!  That's a _demon._  One of Raguel’s kin.”

 

 _A zealot of justice, destroyer of wicked spirits, ready to cast the fallen to Gehenna, though neither holy nor unholy herself.  I know.  It's okay.  I think._ Fuck, not being able to reassure Jade aloud was frustrating.

 

Karkat looked as surprised as Rose and Dave.  “You an expert in demonology now, Harley?”

 

“I- Well, yeah, I am.”

 

The demon exercised her cacklebox a bit more.  “I _told_ you they're interested in club content!”

 

Dave was only slightly less twitchy than Rose.  Fuck, if they killed someone in front of a teacher, John might have to drop out of college again.

 

Or turn them in.

 

Easy choice, really.  Dave was just so cute when he chewed his lip like that.  The boy in question paused the action to ask, “The fuck is a Raguel then?”  Oh, Dave, do you know nothing of the creatures you hunt?

 

“The angel of Justice!”  Terezi set her briefcase on the table and popped it open.  A bit of blood dripped from her eye when she leaned over it, matching the redpop stains.

 

“ALRIGHT, TEREZI.  WHAT DO YOU HAVE AGAINST MY STUDENTS EXACTLY?  YOU DON’T MAKE RANDOM ACCUSATIONS.”

 

“Nothing!  They smell delicious.”

 

“Seriously?” Dave groaned.  He… relaxed. Huh.  “How many times am I going to hear that in one week?”  He pushed John’s chair back to the table and sat next to the vampire.

 

Jade swatted at him.  “Dave, I mean it.  Don't just sit there like nothing happened.  She's a real demon!  Now is not the time for your silly roll-with-it coolkid bit.”

 

“Have a little more faith, Harley.  I got this.”

 

“NO ONE HAS ANYTHING.  TEREZI, IF YOU AREN’T GOING TO BE HELPFUL OR FORTHCOMING, COULD YOU LEAVE FOR A FEW MINUTES?  LOOK HOW SHAKEN UP MS. LALONDE IS.”

 

Oh, jeez, yeah.  The rotten scent clinging to the girl suggested she may puke again.

 

“Nah, she's fine,” the demon said.

 

Dave slid his shades to his hairline and made eye contact with Rose.  “Calm your tits, and sit down, Lalonde.  An interview won't hurt anyone.”  The pulse syncing beat started.  Terezi perked an ear at the sound, though no one else reacted to it.  After a minute, the scent receded.

 

“How right you are, David.”  Rose shrugged the tension from her shoulders, dusted off her skirt, and sat beside the pale boy.  Tmp, tmp, tmp.  “Do pardon my reaction.  I was a tad startled by your appearance, Ms. Pyrope.”

 

That left Jade hovering behind them, increasingly frustrated.  Her fists were half clenched.  “Guys, seriously.  Nobody look her in the eyes.  That's super dangerous.”

 

Without turning away from the demon, Dave reached back and squeezed Jade’s hand.  “Relax, sweets.  If things go anywhere south of the Arctic, I've got your back.  I'm kinda curious about this expertise of yours though.  I'll blow my top through the ceiling tiles if we have another exorcist.  I mean, fucking €#ρ!$7, can't I get a break?”

 

“...what do you mean?”  Jade asked, eyes open with alarm.

 

Terezi howled with laughter and pounded her bottle against the table.  “This kiddy drama is dumber than a soap.  Seriously, Karkat, I need to know how you always find them.  ‘Oh _no,_ none of my friends are regular, old humans.  I finally thought I was fitting in with normal people.’  Ehehehe, wow.  Talk about lame.”

 

“I told you to get out of my head.”  Dave actually sounded angry.

 

“WAIT, ARE THEY NOT-”

 

Rose cut him off.  “Pardon, Mr. Vantas.  David and I are in a position of simultaneous opposition towards and congruence with Ms. Pyrope.  I am an investigator and executioner for a greater entity, and David is an exorcist.”

 

“SO YOU KILL PEOPLE.”

 

“I am inclined to think further comment on the topic is unnecessary, as we have a court case to discuss for our coursework if Ms. Pyrope is still comfortable speaking with us, and little time remaining to complete that discussion.”

 

Karkat stuffed his head in the fridge at an odd angle and started swearing.  John missed the spectacle, as both his eyes were on his cursed friend, on her wide eyes.  Her hands were no longer fisted.  Jade was shocked and confused.  Her mouth formed a wordless question.  All John could do was offer a sympathetic frown and shake his head.  He should've broken the news to her more softly-

 

Terezi was laughing at them.

 

No.

 

Damnit, no. _If you say a word, I will tear your fingers from your hands-_  The demon held said fingers up with the claws pointed away in a placating gesture.

 

Utterly at a loss, Jade remained silent.  The way she slowly nudged herself between John and Dave, familial and protective, broke a piece off his heart.

 

Rose blatantly ignored the gestures.  “Please allow me to extend a thank you, Mr. Vantas, for the opportunity to speak with Ms. Pyrope and for presenting an interview subject to go with our research that is of greater intrigue than the original.”  Rose nodded formally then turned a piercing eye on the demon.  “Do you mind if I start with a few tangential inquiries?”

 

Terezi ground the now-empty redpop bottle against the table.  “Of course not!  Your problem if you regret the answers you get.”

 

“A given but thank you for the warning.  Ever killed anyone, Ms. Pyrope?”

 

“Loads of people! Justly!”

 

“WHAT?!  TEREZI-”  Karkat was the only surprised one in the room.

 

Rose didn’t allow him to get into it.  “Justly from your perspective or according to the law?”

 

Terezi clicked her jaw open to show off more fangs.  “The prosecution has presented a trick question!  Regardless of perspective, I fail to constitute a judge or juror as a human peer.”

 

“Fair enough.  From Raguel’s ideal of balance?”

 

“Always!”

 

“Have you killed someone to hide your identity previously?”

 

“I don’t hide my identity.  Karcrab thought I was a cosplayer for the longest time.”

 

Rose looked completely in her element interrogating the demon.  “Surely you’re challenged by some form of hunter frequently.”

 

“I smell you coming a mile away!  None of you will ever catch me.”  Terezi peeled her lips back to show the full length of her fangs.  “Unless the court finds you guilty of wrongdoing!  Then we can play a game: let’s see who’s blood smells nicest on the pavement.”

 

**this one is alright**

**we don’t want her**

 

“I couldn’t agree more with the sentiment, Ms. Pyrope, and thus am open to a civil conversation.  Let us discuss that court case you led.  Tell me; how on Earth did you convince a court of regular citizens a fairy was real?”

 

~~~

 

Time ran thin, and the crew dispersed well before finishing their interview.  They’d have to follow up at the same time the next day, assuming Lalonde didn’t go full caterwauling tentahunter on the demon they were interviewing before then.  The whole thing was beyond surreal, and Strider was relieved to be done with coursework for the day and head out hunting.  He rifled through his box of weaponry, unsure what he could possibly need when he was going with his smarmy classmate.

 

As Strider had yet to get his first paying job, everything was purchased by Bro.  Unsurprisingly and in spite of the fact that his life depended on his piece of shit swords not breaking mid fight, the guardian acquired nothing but the flimsiest of blades for his charge and kept the finest demonfuckers for himself.  Sometimes Strider swore Bro did it as another form of trial, as though he didn’t get enough of that nonsense being raised on Shugendo.  Always with the god accursed trials.

 

Dang, living with Egbert was relaxing in comparison.  Yes, he was assaulted day one and roasted into a hot, meta contrarian fajita day two.  Both hurt like a motherfucker, though the former right in his prissy little blood pumper rather than literally.  Not to mention the constant weight of his nerdy roommate having designs after his free will and an unchecked desire to suck on him like the last orange creamsicle at a mid August pool party.  His blood.  Suck his blood.

 

Where was this train of thought going?  Ah, yes.  Aside from the utter, crushing disappointment of the chickenshit egghead pretending to be into him for a taste of some sweet Strider nectar, the experience was an improvement from back home.  No 3 AM strifes, no porn doll booty traps.  Booby traps.  Christ.  The fridge was stocked, and Egbert actually asked him about his TV and movie preferences instead of blasting experimental mixes at 11 as a test of how effectively sound alone could be used as a torture method.  Alright, the dialogue in the leech’s shitty disk collection that vaguely qualified as cinematography was _also_ a surefire torture method.  At least Egbert asked before playing them.

 

Jesus fucking Christ, Strider needed higher standards.

 

Speak of the devil, the eggshit was hovering and scratching at his collar like he always did when he wasn’t sure if he should speak up.  How did someone so easy to read make such a convincing human?  Although, in hindsight, Strider really ought to have noticed how difficult detecting the guy was.

 

“Sup, Egbert?”

“You know what, nothing.  It’s really dumb.  Don’t worry about it.”

 

“Everything you say is dumb.  Hasn't stopped me from listening.”

 

“Hey!”

 

He set aside his box and sat up so Egbert knew he had Dave’s full attention.  “Strider gossip hub is open.  What’s got your panties in a knot?”

 

“Well, uh.  You know how you told me not to hurt Jade?”

 

“I clearly fucking remember.”

 

“Before the whole enthrallment thing happened, we made dinner plans for tonight.  She had something she really needed to get off her chest.  Would you mind calling her and cancelling for me?  I could ask Casey, but I figured it would be easier from someone Jade knows.”

 

Strider recalled John and Jade hugging for the first time.  In his head, the vampire was squeezing the life out of the girl.  “Yeah, I mind.”

 

Egbert deflated quicker than a balloon macking on a cactus.  No, a hot air balloon suddenly devoid of fire and light, with absolutely no kissing involved in the imagery.  Shit.  “Oh, okay.  Thanks anyways.”

 

Was that what people normally did?  Just a phone call.  Nothing more formal for the inconvenience of rescheduling, like a small gift?  Dave wasn’t sure.  “Remind me who the fuck Casey is?”

 

“Oh!  I was thinking I’d introduce her to Jade so she can take a look at the curse.  She’s a vampire that's really talented at necromancy and stuff.  You know her as Casey Albright!”  Egbert reinflated with a suspicious amount of fondness for this Casey.

 

“Sunday mass alert must be out of service.  Not ringing any bells here.”

 

“Daaave, yes.  I’ve mentioned her like eighty million times.  That super gorgeous actress!  We’ve watched at least four movies starring Casey together.  I’m actually close with her in real life!”

 

“...I kinda tune that movie garbage out when you go on about it.”  Shit.  Fuck.  Christ.  Strider couldn’t compete with a gorgeous actress.  Or an old friend.  Definitely not an old friend that was also an eternally gorgeous actress.  That was also talented in black magic?  How did someone like that even exist?

 

Not that he was uncool enough to compete for a guy, especially a guy that wasn’t genuinely interested.  No, he was a Strider.  He had fine assed ladies falling all over him in fiery passion like the carpet bombing of Dresden and who was he kidding, he needed to quit brooding about Egbert playing him.  Sometime.  Not today.  Today, he’d rather fuck with the little eggshit.  As in screw with him.  Fuck.  Get revenge for the betrayal.

 

“...and even though it was her best performance ever, her romantic interest in the film was played by a stupidhead that was super sleazy and…” Oh god, Strider.  Don’t reflexively tune him out.  This cinema babble is actually relevant now.  This is war, and you need all the data you can get.  Information and a solid battle plan are the key to success.  And.

 

John’s leg still had a large spot of blood on it.

 

“...it was totally unfair how-”

 

“Egbert.”

 

“-she couldn’t- Pardon?”

 

Don’t stare.  Don’t stare.  Don’t stare.  “Are your pants new?”

 

“Yeah?  Kinda hit me from left field there, buddy.”  Wearing a facade of cool rationale, Strider flashed to the bathroom for a damp rag.  “Dave?”

 

Returning in a blink, Strider pressed the rag to the stain on the leech’s thigh.  Egbert squealed like the girliest porkchop and lord, why did Strider think stabbing the eggshit after the incident with Harley was okay?  “Should’ve believed you when you said you cursed her by mistake.  My bad.”

 

“D-Dave.  Stop.  It’s alright, really.”  Egbert snatched the rag.

 

“If you cancel these important dinner plans or whatever with Harley, I will stab you again.”  Okay, no.   _Why_ did he say that?  Blood on John’s thigh.  “You can only mess with a girl so many times in one week and call it acceptable.”  Ignoring Egbert’s embarrassed look, and _definitely_ ignoring the red spot, Strider stole the rag back and returned to his ministrations.

 

“Wait, you’re still letting me go?”  Egbert sounded hesitantly hopeful.

 

“Do I look like your mother?  I ain’t lettin’ you do jackshit.”

 

“Oh, sorry.  You said you were taking responsibility if I hurt anyone, so I kind of assumed you wouldn't want me to visit her.  Sorry.”

 

Strider forcefully dragged his eyes up from the stain and looked at his roommate’s face.  Egbert was tugging at his collar again, and his face was speckled with worry.  “There isn’t a hyperbole dramatic enough to explain the gap in your skull.”

 

“Hehe, but that _was_ a hyperbole.”

 

“Congratulations, you have a basic grasp of verbal irony.”  The blood wasn't coming out.  Strider raised the rag to his lips and whispered over it.   _“Stains are uncool; return to rest in the dirt, yo.”_ He was always surprised the nonsense tumbling out of his mouth qualified as prayer.  Nonetheless, under the blessed cloth, the blood burned away.  A patch of dust was left behind.

 

Egbert muttered, “Thanks.”

 

Strider pictured the thigh wound fresh.  Shit, _stop._  “Don't mention it.  So why do you think introducing a crazy necromancer broad to Harley is a good idea?”

 

“The spell I put Jade under is really awful, and I might've damaged her mind.  Casey can help fix her.  Err, if it’s fixable.”

 

“I trust you and your dumb, desperate face, but I'm not letting some rando asshole at Harley’s head without the Strider seal of approval.”  Jealousy wasn't a factor.  Standard protocol for handling the undead.

 

Brows furrowed, Egbert blinked at him.  “Thanks?  Casey wanted me to introduce you guys anyways.  You’ll love her, Dave, promise.”

 

Strider let a caustic edge creep into his voice.  “I doubt it.”

 

“No, you will!  Casey is my favoritest person ever.  I cannot express how adorable she is in words.  You will be totally charmed.”

 

Ouch.  The eggshit wasn't even pretending to care for him.

 

Strider tapped himself on the cheekbone, keeping his dismay carefully hidden.  “My blessed eyes are immune to bloodsucker charms.  Be it mad curses or witticism, one cannot fool a Strider.  Counting grains of sand would be a better use of time than trying to pull a fast one on me.  Would sully my brother’s name if I let myself be taken in by an actress.  Especially a hot one.  Bro bred me to flay leeches.  Of course I won't like the vampire babe.”

 

Egbert flinched at the words and mumbled, “I'm messaging her now.”

 

“Wait, fuck.”

 

The other didn't look up from his device.  “Oh, hey.  She can stop by on the weekend, if that's not too long to wait.”

 

“I swear I was just rambling.”  Strider’s foot and mouth needed a divorce asap.  Their relationship was all flavors of unhealthy, and his toes were downright _abusing_ his teeth.

 

“...I’ll make sure I don't talk to Jade until then.  I can't think of any stimuli she’d react to aside from my voice, so she should be fine.  In theory.”

 

“I swear, Egbert.  Same sort of meaningless posturing I do all the time.”

 

Egbert continued prodding at his phone.  “I know better now.  It won't happen again.  No need to worry about my taco night with Jade.”

 

Strider went on.  “Alright, maybe I do hate vampires, but it's not personal or anything.  I mean, I also hate the kind of person I am- how the #3|| have I not gotten over my problem with blood?  I'm still rad as shit, but I'm an awful exorcist and so >4Wν stupid if I ever thought I could kill you, and I don't know what in #3|| I'm doing anymore-”

 

Egbert finally looked him in the eye.  “Dave, please stop hurting yourself.”

 

Oh, spirit.  Anything but pity from the vampire.  It was utterly unfair.  Looking all sympathetic-like with those hella cute, blue eyes.  Fake blue.  Fuck, why was Egbert still faking all the nice guy sympathy nonsense?  And now Strider couldn't stop himself from glancing at the dust on Egbert’s thigh, from picturing John with hands gloved by Peixes’ blood, a trail of red dribbling from the corner of his mouth, tongue dyed copper as he licked the steel of Strider’s blade with the most depraved expression.

 

Strider was at least as insane as the vampire.  “Fu-u-u-ck.”  He brushed away the dust from John’s pants, and his fingers lingered.

 

“D-Dave, _what are you doing?”_

 

“Think it finally sunk in: you had that same desperate look when I burned myself that you had with Peixes.  Kinda the same face you're making right now over Harley.  I hate it.”  He leaned closer to John and slipped his fingers into the cut in the fabric.  Egbert gasped.  Strider prodded at his cold skin.  Before the other could so much as gather a thought, Strider pulled back and quirked his rosy lips into a smirk.  “Bit flustered there, Egbert?  What happened to all that charming confidence?”

 

The pitch of Egbert’s voice flew wide of its mark as though thrown by a T-ball player.  “I think.  I am completely warranted to be more confident.  In situations where no one remembers my slip ups.  So there.”

 

“Strong rebuttal.”  Strider tucked his smirk away under a mask for fear of looking deranged.  “So about your leg.  The cut didn't leave a scar, and neither did your burns.”

 

Egbert facepalmed.  “Oh my goodness!  Is that what you were doing?  Why couldn't you _ask_ about it instead of stabbing me and feeling me up?  All of my friends are one hundred percent cuckoo.  Except, not my friend you said I guess, sorry, and-”

 

Strider cut him off, regretting that John was so uncertain.  “If you don't scar, what’s the deal with your stomach?”  It was too easy to imagine canine fangs tearing into his side.

 

“Oh, that's simple.  Those marks are from before.”

 

“Before you died.”

 

Egbert tapped his chin thoughtfully.  “It might be more accurate to say _when_ I died.”

 

Strider’s mask melted into a long, grief stricken expression.  “Sorry to hear that.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Was it actually a werewolf?”

 

“Mhm.  Honestly, the whole thing is pretty weird.  I lost consciousness with a wolf eating my guts, and I woke up a-alone.  Like this.  I.  Still don't know why.  It was probably the shittiest day ever.  I'm super grateful to people like you and Rose that are trying to prevent that, you know.”

 

“No problem.”  Gods, Egbert sounded so genuine, and Strider wasn't sure he could even do the work he was being thanked for.

 

“Still, as upset as I am about all that, I would really prefer if you didn't kill anything vaguely resembling a werewolf in the next few months.  Even if they deserve it.  Please?”

 

Oh.

 

“You know what?  Yeah.  I can do that for you.”  Though it was a weak excuse to stay his blade, it was something of a relief.

 

“Really?”  John lit up.  “Thank you!  You have no idea how much that means to me.”

 

Likewise.  “Shit ain't free, Egbert.  I'm charging you for my probation term.”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“I'm not paying any of this month’s rent.”

 

“You drive a hard bargain.”  John, already beaming, started hopping on the balls of his feet, adorably child-like.  “Between this probation contract thingy and having to put up with you for a month… I don’t remember how this joke is supposed to end.  I just can’t believe you still want to stay with me!”

 

“I’m too poor to find a new apartment.  ‘Sides, you said I could stay even if we clashed.  Wasn’t prepared for the scale of all this sewage- caught me with my pants around my ankles- but I can manage.”

 

Egbert giggled.  “Oh my gosh, now I’m excited all over again!”

 

Strider was struggling to resist his infectious grin.  “Shit man, you’re exuding too much fucking aegyo to be the bloodsucker that cursed my best friend.”

 

Just like that, Egbert’s mood popped.  “I’m so sorry.  I fucked up so bad.”

 

Against his better judgement, Strider believed him that time.  It didn't matter if he was taken advantage of again.  Seeing Egbert frown hurt in all the worst ways.  He let his voice go soft and a hair too affectionate.  “Seriously, don't sweat it.  No one to apologize to but Harley.  So don’t cancel on the tacos.  Go get your nonverbal regrets on.”

 

“Right.  I'm going to be late.  Again.  Thank you, Dave!  I.  Have a good evening.”  Egbert hesitated for a moment, rolling back on his heels and leaning in.  “Considering the- uhh- how close you were?  You don't mind if.  Umm.”

 

Strider schooled his expression and raised a brow.  “I _said_ I’m not your momma.  Do what you want.”

 

John pecked him on the cheek.  It was brief though icy, like a lemonade on a hot day.  Without another word, John grabbed his keys and bolted from the apartment.

 

~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, people with obsessions & intrusive thoughts are statistically less violent than average. Dave has a couple other complexes on top of that which influence him. All of these things are blended together and overlap in such a way that is intended to come off as extremely startling here.
> 
> Little different pacing from prior chapters here; things will revert partway through 8.
> 
> Thanks again to Kalvinator for reviewing this! And thanks everyone for the opinions, even brief.
> 
> <> Flare


	7. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sibling bonding chapter.
> 
> Be wary for there is brief gore ahead.

_ What the shitfuck. _

 

An echo of the quick kiss was guaranteed to hang around all day.  Rubbing at his cheek, Strider went back to his box and dug out a pair of unsharpened straight swords, the least lethal in his repertoire.  Seriously, why did he even own these pieces of shit?  Existential despair over his weaponry was quickly replaced with the obsessive thoughts, twisted images of Egbert replaying in his head.

 

Way to out-creep your creepy ass roommate, Strider.

 

He took several deep breaths and offered a rambling narrative to Sojobo to try and clear his head on his way to meet Lalonde.  Any lingering thoughts were drowned out by a phantom beat when he approached Nannaquin’s.  Lalonde was sitting in the sparse shade offered by an awning.

 

“Good evening, Strider.”

 

“Sup, Lalonde.”

 

The young woman rose to her full height, one remaining thorn in hand and slitted skirt billowing around her hunting boots.  As always, she looked as sharp as a knife and no less threatening.  “Shall we?”

 

“Give me a minute.”  Strider rolled his shoulders and pulled his limbs to and fro.  Wearing a half-grin, Lalonde mimicked him poorly.  When he leaned forward to stretch his calves, she leaned with her toes curled, straining the front of her shins rather than the back.  When he twisted his hand away from him, Lalonde twisted her elbow.  Her hand flipped all the way around.  Were she out of shape, the motion would’ve snapped the bones in her forearm.  Strider finally realized.  “Are you mocking me?”

 

“Who, I?  Never.”  Lalonde’s half-grin curled a hair more.  “I’m simply experimenting.”

 

Her arm was still twisted grotesquely.  “Crazy witch,” he muttered.

 

Lalonde rolled her eyes.  “Not with my joints, David.  With our pact.”

 

“I understand perfectly now.  18th Century levels of enlightening are up and happening here.”

 

Lalonde relaxed all her limbs.  “You don’t feel anything unusual?”

 

“Again with the clarity.  You have a way with words, Roselyn.”

 

“Our pact was straightforward, a simple exchange of knowledge, the sort of spell I could cast in my sleep.  Pray tell, how on Earth did I flounder it so badly?”

 

Strider stared at her.  “Everything is working fine on my end.  Since we did your little voodoo circle last night, any unholy do’s you do clamor around in my head like toy soldiers from heck.  An idiot proof surveillance system.  It’s not working for you?”

 

“Oh, it’s working quite well.  You flayed a fell sprite on your way home, no?”  Strider flinched.  “Worry not.  The action was justified.  No, my concern lies in my awareness of your presence and your movements, something neither of us consented toward sharing.  The ambient music we’ve been hearing is a bit worrisome as well.”

 

Strider looked away.  “I see.”   
  


Avoiding eye contact with the Lalonde only made her more curious.  “You do feel it?  Like a hand gently pressing against my spine, suggesting I move in step with you; a soft tug on my heart when you’re near.”

 

On instinct, Strider bared his teeth and reached for his sword.  “That is  _ private, _ Lalonde.  Where the fuck do you get off thinking you can- shit, lost my cool.”   
  


Lalonde looked extremely startled.  “I’m sorry.  I hadn’t the slightest inkling I was intruding on something private.”

 

**YES this is an INTRUSION**

**Get him 0u7**

 

Strider forced his body to relax.  “Yeah.  Those things you described; Sojobo refers to them as breath step and heart sense, except he doesn’t speak English.  It’s been centuries since he taught his techniques to a human being, and you just up and stole them.”

 

“Oh my.  Blessings from a king of spirits are so far outside our little agreement, I’m astounded I haven’t been smited by my own gods for taking them.”  Lalonde bowed her head in apology.  “We can sever our pact before hunting if you’d like.”

 

**YES GET HIM OUT**

**く!|| him already**

 

Strider shrugged.  “Then we’d be right back where we started; a couple of unchecked lunatics threatening to stab each other in the back for rampaging in the night.  That’d sit wrong with me.”

 

“Beg pardon, I’d never kill when Noble beings deem it unnecessary.”

 

**LIES**

**You don’t listen to me anymore**

**Rose please**

**Don’t replace usme with a lowly crow**

**…**

 

“Sure, Lalonde.  Your intentions are entirely noble.”  Strider finished his stretches with Lalonde practicing the breath step across from him.  As soon as he relaxed from his last pose, he felt a ghost of a ribbon on his arms and legs.  His sense for movement pressed him to fall in step with Rose rather than flow around her.  Maybe that  _ was _ a little odd for the battle oriented skill.

 

“I admit I also disliked being at odds with you.  Our current truce is preferable.”  Lalonde pulled a suspicious plastic bag from her purse.

 

Strider choked.  “Oh, shit.  You knocking some sweet, jungle whimsy-makers there, Lalonde?”

 

“Yes, David.  I invited you out not for a hunting run but to discard our responsibilities and imbibe various spiked goods without abandon, goods which without a doubt originate from the Amazon.  Clearly.”  Lalonde took a pinch of leaves and stowed the rest back in her purse.  She rolled the leaves between her fingers, crushing them to powder, and held them to her lips.  Then, she blew on them.  A thick dust cloud of vivid magenta stretched out from her fingers.  The cloud was magnitudes more massive than the original leaves.

 

The dust was swept away despite the lack of a breeze, and Lalonde sprinted after it.  Strider cursed and followed.  His feet fell in step with their shared tune.  The magenta streak took them over buildings and under bridges.  At one point, traffic forced them to stop, and they lost the trail.

 

Between pants, Lalonde confided, “This… is why… I find this method of hunting… deplorable.”  After crossing the street, Lalonde used another pinch of leaves.

 

Strider was well conditioned for the pursuit.  Spending every summer on daily marathons does that to a guy.  Not a drop of sweat marred his brow when the purple cloud finally dispersed, marking their arrival at their destination; a bench in a small park.  The greenery was blocked in by concrete on all sides.  “Okay, Lalonde.  We did a jig across town.  Now what?”

 

“We wait.”  She straightened her clothes and wiped her brow, mildly annoyed.  “I do wish John would return my mirror.  Perhaps my other thorn as well.  Alraune is quite rare.”

 

Despite all the trials for maintaining serenity of the mind, Strider was rambling within minutes.  “Oh, Jegus fucking Grist, so much parkour, and there isn't anything here. I'd think there would be an equal payoff to all that effort; a couple targets for every building we scaled.  The exchange rate for Strider to Lalonde hunting hours is skewed in favor of the slimy bastards escaping from the blade.  Getting pegged by Lalonde isn't working out; shits gotta move to floating currency, stop relying on the Strider swag.”

 

“Oh, my.  You only had to ask if you wanted to be pegged, David.”

 

“Economics, Lalonde.  Get the dirt between your ears scrubbed out.”

 

“Careful, there.  Projecting your rampant sexuality on others might tip off certain parties of your insecurities and frustration.”

 

“Better take those blasphemous words with you to the temple, get wiped clean with a holy wet nap, like a little crawler; can’t take care of your own ass-”

 

“If you aren’t insecure, how on Earth have you convinced yourself John is uninterested?”  Strider fell silent, so Lalonde continued.  “The good fool tipped his hand long ago; I first observed his gooey eyed antics  _ before _ he befriended me.  Now.   _ Now, _ I am subjected to a near daily dose of the angel singing praise unto thee, if you will.”

 

Strider scrambled for a path out of this conversation.  Finding none, he gave an excuse, “Egbert clearly has a crush on this actress chick.”  But why the little peck earlier? -lips coated in heme and death, pressed to Strider’s own-

 

Lalonde let loose completely unabashed laughter.  “That’s quite unbecoming, resenting John for one of his greatest joys; cinema.  Though, I suppose I can sympathize with the jealousy given his tendency to rave warmly about various actors and actresses.”

 

“I meant a specific one, Casey Albright.”

 

In an instant, Lalonde was as tense as a bowstring.  “You noticed as well then.”

 

Strider was thrown by the sudden change.  “Yes?”

 

“I’ve wondered for awhile now whether his keen interest in the Effervesce warrants concern, though I recently decided the topic isn’t important.”

 

“The Eff- what?  Which part is coincidence here?”

 

Lalonde rolled her eyes heavily like a bowling ball.  “Albright’s title and John’s keen focus on a vampire.  Do try to keep up, David.”

 

“Oh, shit.  How’d you know Albright is a vampire?”

 

Lalonde gave him one of those long stares; the ones that made it feel like she picked apart every corner of his soul and still didn’t find the answer she was looking for.  “I’m not completely ignorant, Strider.  Early in my career, my mother even pushed me into attempting the trial myself.”

 

“Right.  The Trial.  Conducted by an unseeable government and some lawyer bros that are shit at giving their names, leaving my poor man K to yammer for years on end-”

 

“I meant killing the Effervesce, obviously.”  Lalonde was visibly struggling with confusion.  “Dave, how precisely do you know about Albright if you’re unfamiliar with both her reputation in necromancy and the tradition of novices attempting to slay her?”

 

“First heard about her like five minutes ago.  Tradition?”

 

“Oh my.  You are wet behind the ears, aren’t you?  The Effervesce is publicly out, so vampire hunters seeking fame regularly challenge her.  Unfortunately, she’s nigh-on immortal and makes regular meals out of the challengers.”  Lalonde slid her shirt to reveal twin scars above her collarbone.  “Enough of that, though.  If you learned of Albright just today, what is the real reason you despair over our harebrained friend?  Did he perhaps do something to garner your suspicions?”

 

Strider chastised himself for letting the half truth fall apart so quickly.  He decided to try for another.  “He wanted dinner from me.”

 

Lalonde rolled her eyes.  “Yes, as you mentioned before, you propositioned him for oral and were rejected in favor of a more quiet activity.”

 

“What, no.”

 

“How unlucky.  Did you press him when he was unprepared?  John is the shy type.”

 

“Fuck, no.  It was just a kiss.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Fuck. Uh.”

 

“Tell me, David.  How did that lead to your current despair?”

 

“He.  Stole dinner from me?”

 

“After you kissed him.”   
  
“After  _ he _ kissed  _ me.” _

 

“Alright, help me out here.  Was there any reason for this sequence of events?  A kiss is hardly a prerequisite for… stealing a meal, if I understand what you’re getting at.  John is hardly one to toy with others.”

 

“Oh.”  She wasn’t wrong.  Egbert could’ve easily skipped the cuddling and mocking- and pinning him- and went straight for hypnosis.  “Maybe he does feel something.”

 

Lalonde facepalmed.  “As though it wasn’t clear before.”   
  


“If there’s really something there-  _ fuck, _ that piece of shit-”   _ Egbert, why. _

 

Lalonde hissed, “Quiet.  Our target is finally here.”  She virtually melted into the shadow of a tree.  Not having the same talent, Strider settled for leaping into the tree itself and crouching on a branch.  The beat pulsed in his ears, and he had a hard time believing it wouldn’t give away their position, though it should be silent to all but he and Lalonde.

 

A short man in a plush suit walked through the park gate.  A duffle bag weighed heavily on his shoulder.  With a huff, he collapsed on the bench and set aside the bag.  Strider felt a ghost of heat curl over his legs.  Without thinking, he dived from the tree and rolled to his feet.  Lalonde pulled from the shadows in time with him.  Rather, he moved in time with her as she advanced on the man, warned of her steps by the heat on his toes.  In a breath, they had the man surrounded, a sword and a thorn aimed at his chest.  The man raised his hands with a squeak.  From up close, his clothes were real plush, the sort of material that doesn’t look good but was meant to be felt up.

 

Strider said, “Hey, old man.  Hold still for a moment while we check out your bag there.  Sound cool?”

 

“Don’t lie to the bastard.  He’s already dead.”

 

Strider glanced at Lalonde.  “Woah, slow down, tentacles-”

 

While his eyes were turned, the short man flicked his wrist.  His leaf shaped cuff link expanded outward to become what looked like a very flashy semi-automatic rifle.  Strider ducked behind the bench for cover, but Lalonde held her ground.  “Does your other cuff link have a magazine in it, by any chance?”

 

The man pointed the device squarely at her chest and pulled the trigger.  Nothing happened.  Strider was still impressed she didn’t flinch.  “Hey man, no bullets.  Put down the gun, and if you’re innocent, no harm done.”

 

Lalonde and the short man both ignored him.  The man stood and swung his gun around.  Lalonde stepped back, narrowly avoiding being bludgeoned in the skull.  She jabbed up with her thorn, and a large, organic spike sprouted from the ground like a weed from a hellscape.  The spike caught on the gun, narrowly failing to impale the man.  Following the ghost ribbons tugging on his toes, Strider blended around the man’s backward step and slashed down with his blunt blade.  The man flailed his arms and knocked aside the sword with his gun.  He wasn’t even looking.

 

Strider moved in four more times and, despite following the man’s steps  _ before _ they were made, was rebuked every time.  At the same time, Lalonde yanked two more of the huge thorns from oblivion.  The man squeaked when one flew past his ear and cowered when the other fell between his feet.  The man was slow and easy to read even without Strider’s battle sense.  How was he so slippery?

 

Their adversary made it back to the bench and fumbled for the straps on his bag.  He  _ completely stopped moving, _ and Strider’s swing still went wide, missing his shoulder.  There was no way Strider missed naturally, not with his usual talent.  “Darn it, man.  Where in heck did ya buy battle grade lube?  Ya slick fuck.”

 

The man got the zipper open but accidentally tipped the whole bag.  Several loaded magazines tumbled to the ground along with a human arm.  The skin was warped along the forearm and a fingernail was missing.  “ **Jesus Christ,** dude.  And I was going easy on you.  What the shit?”  The man bent down to grab the nearest magazine, but Strider kicked it out of the way.

 

_ “Arms in bags and the fuck are these plush rags, gotta demon to catch and a sword that’s no fun.  Dance with me, fucker; dare you to run.”   _ The formerly dull blade gleamed, brought to life as quicksilver.  Strider’s legs became hot and light.  The sensation of silky ribbon wrapped around his feet disappeared, and he kicked off his tennies.  Straw shoes materialized in their place, guaranteeing his steps would be sure.

 

His foe noticed the blessing on the straight sword and scrambled back.  Strider let loose a flurry of strikes, cutting up from the hip, across, down from the chest, all in a matter of seconds.  Again, his foe had ungodly amounts of luck and managed to use the rifle as a shield.  However, each blow left the man’s arms shaking and the gun further warped.  A final vicious strike from Strider, and the quicksilver blade cleaved part of the barrel from the rifle along with the tip of the man’s index finger.  He yelled and dropped the gun.

 

During their exchange, Lalonde darted between them and grabbed the arm-  _ fuck, Lalonde, that is nasty. _  She backed away and pulled a switchblade from her purse.  The tiny weapon was scalpel sharp and covered in unreadable writing.  A vine sprouted from Lalonde’s wrist and wrapped around the switchblade, tying them together.

 

Lalonde crouched and whispered to herself, then drew the knife across the arm in a quick motion.  The vine stuck to the limb and stretched like putty.  Leaves grew from it and sunk into the skin.  Lalonde planted a foot firmly over the victim’s hand and stood, yanking up on the knife.  With a sick crack, most of the ulna was pulled free from the limb.  The vine blackened and crumbled, leaving soot that dribbled like blood.  Lalonde tucked away her knife and armed herself with the bone and her thorn.  They looked eerily similar.  The same.

 

The soot dripped.

 

The beat went silent.

 

Driven by sudden, instinctual terror, Strider dropped his sword and flung himself away from the man.  He fought the urge to puke.  With a great heave of both bones, Lalonde yanked a new spike from the grasp of the unspeakable.  The monstrosity was razor thin and dripping with ichor.  Predictably, it missed by a hair.  Less expected, colorlessness spread from the rod.  Strider couldn’t say whether the distortion was a cloud or a thousand grasping hands.

 

Regardless, when it reached the man, he screamed bloody murder; screamed and screamed until he was choking on his own spittle.  Everywhere the hands touched, his skin lost all color- even greys- and turned scaly.  Strider looked away in disgust when the man’s eyes scaled over.  The rest of the world was overbright in contrast with the colorlessness.  It stung his eyes, forcing him to look back.  The man was dead, and his corpse was unrecognizable.  The atrocity echoed in Strider’s head, a warning that Lalonde committed murder, as agreed upon in their pact.

 

That brand of terrorscreech didn't go unnoticed with residentials nearby.  Lalonde hardly spared a minute before booking it out of the park, Strider on her heel.  Two miles north, they ducked in an alley to catch their breath.  Their shared tune returned, this time only quiet strums.  Strider questioned the other hunter, “Lalonde, why the fuck did you attack the guy before we had evidence against him?   _ And what the actual #3||,  _ desecrating a corpse?  That is beyond fucked up.”

 

“Hardly without evidence.  The Nobles confirmed he was guilty of wrongdoing.  Thank you for buying me time.  I was able to construct a new thorn.”

 

“Didn’t realize you knew the guy before-”

 

“I didn’t.  They determined his fate moments after I laid eyes on him.”

 

_ “You were talking with them just now?!  In your head?  Without any kind of circle or witchy shit?” _  A rare occurrence, Strider allowed his voice to rise.

 

“You seem alarmed by this.”

 

Strider was looking at Lalonde, but all he saw was those viscous yet flaky eyes drained of color.  “Alarmed?  Oh no, Lalonde.  We passed ‘sound the alarm’ and tumbled face first into push the panic button and hide in the safe room with a three year supply of fruit loops and Xanax.  You, Egbert, and Harley are constantly shoving my ignorance in my face and telling me to take a whiff.  Well I whiffed; turns out I am woefully inadequate, nothing but a pidgeon trying to pass as a peacock.  And yet.  If there’s one thing I’ve picked up from Bro and the tengu, it is to never, under any circumstances, let anything even mildly pure or stained within sixfold spitting distance of my skull.  I swear on my mommy’s grave, the king of spirits himself told me if the devil comes peddling, trade your soul before your mind.  Even wimptastic newborn demons like Pyrope can and will scarf on your free will like gum drops if they have an opening.  It’s no wonder you’re  _ casually snapping human bones, _ fuck.”

 

“You’re overreacting, Strider.  Please calm down.”

 

He wasn’t about to stop mid-rant.  “Then there are Nobles.  The horriscary old gods are too big to even compare to something our size.  They send folks to cower at daddy’s feet and lick salt off the floor of the insane asylum with the barest contact.  A quick glimpse of a wiggly toe’s shadow, an echo of a mumbled sneeze, even hearing their human names is enough to make the steeliest manbro crack.  I’ve  _ seen _ it happen.  And you have the nerve to tell me I’m overreacting when they’re speaking directly into your  **God** >4Wν head.”

 

“Pardon me, Strider.  I thought we went over this yesterday.”

 

Scales for eyes.  Blood dripping down his lip.  Peck on the cheek.  “I  _ told _ you I don’t speak jello monster earjam.  Except now I know how royally fucked you are.  This isn’t some surface problem or behavior that can be changed to stop the wabbajack babblefits.  May as well be scar tissue on your brain.  Still, if we set up wards in your head as soon as yesterday, we might be able to salvage something.”

 

Lalonde tucked away her sinister weapons.  The things leaked as much purity as depravity, another complexity of the Nobles beyond the comprehension of a tiny, holy thing like Strider.  The young woman held her hands up in a placating gesture and slowly closed the distance between them.  Gently, Rose squeezed his shoulder.  “Breathe, Dave.  I’m fine.  The ones at risk yesterday were John and yourself.  I did not fail to speak; you lost the ability to comprehend me.  For that, I am terribly sorry, and I’ll do what I can in the future to minimize the damage.  Failing that, I’ll leave.”

 

Strider mirrored her grip on his shoulder.  “Oh, fuck no.  You’re not up and leaving to patch up your squiddly booboos by yourself.”

 

“I am not injured, Dave.”  She brushed her free hand through his hair.  “If it would comfort you, I’ll accept your offer of warding my mind.”

 

**DON’T YOU DARE**

**YOUNG SEERROSE LALONDE STOP RIGHT NOW**

 

He said, “It would.”  

 

“Do you need to prepare anything?”

 

“Nah, just a prayer is fine.  Oh, and uh.  I should do the other thing.”

 

“Go ahead.”  She didn’t even ask what, offering her trust.

 

Strider took his shades off and closed the inches between them, pressing their foreheads together.  He… actually expected this to be more awkward.  Lalonde’s eyes filled his vision, and the mix of amusement and gratitude ringing them was just as comfortable up close, something Strider rarely experienced outside of doofy spirits and his doofy Bro.  And John.  That was another case, though.

 

Their music slowed to a series of smooth synthetic sounds, more lethargic than anything Dave had ever mixed.  He liked it.  It was peaceful, washing away any lingering nightmares and bringing renewed clarity to his thoughts.  He turned his focus on weaving a prayer.  Rose watched him patiently.  When he was prepared, he brought his lips close to her ear and whispered.

 

The heat of the blessing hung between them, and the unstained words settled on Rose’s skin like a stone in a ring.  They were meant to be there.  Not only did the whole construct fit, but the blessing was much stronger and purer than Strider expected.  A spirit would’ve said it was an ostentatious show of power, like wearing a halo or a crown.  On Lalonde, the boon fit as naturally as her headbands; pretty but not beautiful.

 

“Thank you.”  Lalonde swiped a thumb across his cheek.  It came away wet.  “I hadn’t realized you care so deeply, nor that you have the strength to rival gods.”

 

“Shit, don’t tell my Bro I cried like a blubbering babe.  Nothing but a man’s tears from me.”

 

“Of course.  You’re simply overwhelmed by everything with myself and John; that can stay between us.”  Lalonde stepped back.  Her face was alight with childish wonder, though her words were even.  “I’ll require a promise in return: I don’t want you to be upset.  Moreso, I mean.”

 

**Rose this burnsstinksfreezeshurts UGLY**

**Take it off**

**Why would you let the crow touch you**

 

“Their voices aren’t gone,” Rose continued, “For they were never in my mind.  I’m in theirs.”

 

~~~

 

“Who is it?”

 

John resisted the urge to groan and knocked a second time.  This right here was why he usually planted resistance to hypnosis in his victims.  The sensitivity to his voice was so damn inconvenient.  If anyone asked, he was minimizing the influence of other predators, purely out of concern.

 

He heard a snuffling, then, “Oh, John!”  Jade opened her door.  “Hi!”

 

The girl spread her arms for a much needed hug.  John waved and tapped on the doorjamb.

 

Jade dropped her arms.  “Um, are you okay?  You look a little frustrated.”

 

He tapped the jamb again.

 

“C’mon, tell me what’s wrong, buddy.”

 

John inched as close to the threshold as he could get.  Asking for an invitation without any kind of speech or silent language was perhaps a task he should’ve put more thought to.

 

“Alright, I won’t pry.”  Jade lowered her voice and looked both ways down the hall.  “We need to discuss the thing Rose mentioned earlier, though.”

 

John nodded.  Jade waited patiently for him to respond, and the silence stretched wide.  Realizing the other wasn’t going to interrupt it, John shrugged and took a step back to tap the jamb again.

 

“Um.  I meant right now.  It’s kind of related to my ‘problem’.  The one I wanted to tell you about today?”

 

He nodded eagerly but said nothing.

 

The girl scowled.  “Well fine.  If you don’t want to talk to me, you are welcome to leave.”

 

Immediately, John felt pressure from all sides, trying to force him from the apartment complex.  He allowed a small kick in his voice and said,  _ “Jade, let me in already.” _

 

Irritation drained from the girl’s face, leaving behind an eerie shell.  “Please come in.  You’re welcome anytime.”

 

John practically collapsed into her room, his whole body shaking.  He let his bags drop to the floor with a heavy thunk and kicked the door shut behind him.  A handful of minutes were spent to collecting himself and another ten waiting for Jade to snap out of it.

 

The girl blinked at him.  “What just-”

 

John caught her in a hug.  He had no idea how to apologize to her silently, so he patted her head and back.

 

“Oh!  Hi, John!”

 

Pulling back, he smiled at her and gestured towards her tiny kitchen.

 

“Right.  We were planning tacos, weren’t we?”  While Jade gathered the ingredients, John emptied his bags unto a small folding, table.  Hawk, trowel, stirring stick, dry plaster, a pair of buckets, paint and brush, hammer and nail, a few strips of plywood.

 

“Planning on making something?  I thought you weren’t the creative type!”

 

John pointed at the hole where Bec ate part of the wall.

 

“Oh, goodness!  You already saved my silly ass yesterday!  You didn’t have to do that for me.  You are the sweetest thing, John.  Thank you so much!”

 

John offered her a sheepish grin.  He attempted to nail in the plywood but, after a miserable failure, traded Jade for the job of chopping vegetables.  The girl was absurdly efficient, already cleaning plaster off the trowel when John added the last spice to the chicken.

 

“This smells so good.  There’s no way you used the same ingredients I left on the counter!”

 

He shrugged and dished up two plates.  While he and Dave would eat on the couch and talk over some documentary or another, Jade sat him down at a proper table and tethered her phone to her stereo.  John glanced at the playlist.  He winced.  Most of the titles were favorites of his; the curse imprinted his personality right over the girl’s.

 

Jade eagerly tucked into the food, making faces each time she got a bite with pepper seeds.  “This is unbelievably yummy!  Where did you learn to cook like this?”

 

The vampire shrugged.

 

“You’re being quite modest over there.  I’d say you have a lot of skill!”  A short pause.  “Sooo.  I’ve been considering cutting my hair.  It seems much too long lately.  What do you think?”

 

John shifted and took a bite of food.

 

“Wow, rude, John.  At least tell me if you don’t like the idea.”  Another bite.  “Are you getting caught up in your other classes?  Missing a week of Calculus must be tough for you.”  Jade made a face when he didn’t answer and continued, “I worked ahead, so the only things I got behind on are Journalism and my feeding schedule for the, err, dog.  Gosh, thanks again for helping me out there!  I’m so glad you weren’t hurt.”

 

He did his best to convey humility in a nod.  With her keen observation skills, he hoped Jade understood.

 

“According to my grandpa, there’s nothing worse than being responsible for the death of a close friend.  I don’t know what I would’ve done if…”

 

John hummed low in his throat and shook his head.  He slipped a cold hand over hers and brought her fingers to his throat.  Catching on, Jade probed his neck for his jugular.

 

“Wow.  I suppose being responsible for your double-death would be pretty awful, too.”

 

He shrugged and poked at what remained of his taco.

 

“So.  Are you…?”

 

The vampire made a silly face, letting his fangs peek out.

 

“A blood mage!  No wonder you noticed my ‘problem’.  Heh, there are some good jokes to be made about our friendship.  Although, the rumors about our kinds not getting along are pretty silly.”

 

John chuckled and looked away.  Those rumors were definitely started by him and Casey some years ago.

 

The girl made a serious face.  “Is this what the whole drug thing was about?  And… everything that happened then?”  He gave her a guilty smile that melted into a grimace.  “It’s fine, forget I mentioned it.  Really.  Thanks for sharing even though you seem a little uncomfortable about everything.  I’ve never seen you so quiet.”

 

He waved it off.

 

“Since we’re on the topic, are you... How much do you know about me?”

 

John blinked at her and tapped his throat.  Then he opened and closed his mouth a few times.

 

Jade connected the dots quick as lightning jumping clouds.  Rather than sympathy, her eyes lit with the excitement of a scientist at a new discovery.  “Oh goodness!  How on Earth did you end up mute, and why didn’t anyone tell me?  Is it related to all of this?”

 

He shrugged and hummed again.

 

“Okay, perhaps not mute.  But still can’t speak?”

 

John nodded.

 

“Sorry!  Let me get my white board for you.  I also know ASL if that-”

 

He grabbed her arm and shook his head.

 

“I see.  I suppose we’ll make do, then.”  She shifted in her seat.  “This is my first time talking about this, but I’m not feeling nervous anymore.  Thanks so much.”  Though she said that, her heart rate was still a hair fast.

 

John squeezed Jade’s hand.

 

“To start, you know I don't actually have a dog, right? Becquerel is made up.”

 

He bowed his head.  He suspected as much right from the beginning, but  _ seeing _ the fluffy, white beast in person convinced him otherwise.  Then, he carelessly cursed Jade.  How could he be so disgustingly stupid?

 

“It was me, John.”

 

He fussed and fretted, fully expecting the exorcist and the hunter to hurt her at the first opportunity.  But, no.  Dave was right to threaten him.  He stuck a poisoned barb in Jade’s head, left his fingerprints in her mind.

 

“You fed me, and I almost killed you.  I'm so sorry.”

 

No, he was the one at fault; he was the fool.  Jade was innocent.  He fucked up and fucked her over.  All because he was convinced Bec looked like a dog; because he panicked.

 

“You understand?”

 

He despised himself for it.

 

Dave was right to hate him.

 

“I'm a werewolf.  Grandpa was infected and Grandma… I’d rather not talk about it.  I inherited my other form from them.”

 

Even if he could speak, John had no idea what to say.  Gently, he patted her arm.

 

“Thanks, John.  For not freaking out or anything.”

 

He pushed aside his empty plate and held up a finger to Jade.  Then, he guided her hands to cover her eyes.  

 

“Do you have a surprise for me?”

 

Rose’s compact mirror was placed on the table.  John doubted it would be anything but incriminating considering the girl’s status, but it didn’t hurt to check.  He flipped the compact open and was faced with a perfectly opaque surface, his features reflecting nothing.  No soul was tied to his flesh.

 

He tilted the mirror.  Jade’s reflection sat suspended, her jet black hair stark against the white of the lens.  Her posture was offensive and her body hummed with power, galaxies dancing across her chest and green light leaking from between her fingers.  Flowers grew from her head; withering white roses on either side of her crown resembled canine ears.  Long, vicious fangs poked out of her mouth, disrupting her soft expression.

 

John snapped the compact shut and clutched his chest, terrified.  From what he observed, human souls varied at the most in expression and color.  Jade’s reflection was not only incriminating, it suggested wild power far beyond anything he was capable of.  How in hell he managed to curse her, he hadn’t the slightest idea.  Bec definitely could’ve eaten him.

 

“Can I open my eyes now?”

 

He tugged her hands down.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

John waved his arms around but, honestly, even he had no idea what he meant.

 

“Heh, I guess this is a little freaky even to a blood mage.”  Jade tried to laugh it off, but the sound was empty and died in a sigh.  “I swear I’m not that bad.  I get really crazy at the peak of the month, but that’s it.”

 

Accepting her statement, John offered her a shaky hug then stood to wash the dishes.  Hardly one to leave chores to a house guest, Jade joined him.

 

“So.  Rose mentioned demon hunting earlier.  You already knew, right?”  A nod.  “What did she- darn it, I have so many questions.  When you said I shouldn’t tell her about all of this… is she dangerous?”

 

He looked her in the eye and nodded vigorously.  This was an important point to get across.

 

“Even though we’re friends?”

 

He only stopped nodding to give her a sad frown.

 

“And what about Dave.  Is he dangerous?”

 

John hesitated.  His roommate was both volatile and capable, that was clear.  By all rights, the answer should be yes.  But Dave made a promise to John- his probation term.  That had to mean something, right?  He could trust Dave, trust him to keep his word, trust him to be a good person.

 

So much time had passed, John almost forgot how to put faith in someone other than Casey, but it felt right.  Dave was  _ his. _  Of course it would be fine.

 

He shook his head: no, Dave isn't dangerous.  He  _ had  _ to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty Kalvinator and Laf for feedback.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!!! <3 Flare


	8. Chapter 8

The young woman kneeled, uncaring of the skirt she dragged through the dust and scum of the city. She clasped her benefactor’s hand between her own and pressed her bowed head to it. “Thank you, Dave Strider. Regardless of the desire or the means, if you require anything at all, you only need ask, for you have in your debt the last-born of the Nobles, Seer of Light, Rose Lalonde.”

 

“...What the shit.”

 

Rose gave him a small smile. “I cannot thank you enough for this. I doubted your abilities and was proven wrong. Do allow me to apologize.”

 

“Nah, with all the vows I’ve broken lately, I should be dry as a century old man, yet this is easily my most kick ass blessing to date. Heck is with that?”

 

The woman’s smile smile stretched to a dangerous grin. “It seems you’ve cleaned yourself up. This blessing is pure enough to stave off even a famished outer denizen.”

 

“You finally admitting the Outer Gods want to eat your brains?”

 

“As well as my soul and body, yes of course. Cannibalism is quite popular Out There.”

 

Strider rejected the implication. “Cannibalism. Okay, no. Lalonde, you’re insane.”

 

“I assure you I’m far more sane than most of our kind.”

 

“Don’t you dare say  _ your kind _ like you aren’t-”   
  


Lalonde cut him off. “Our, David. As in you and I. Despite our mundane origins, we are well on our way to claiming godhood. I wonder if that's why our minds mesh so well… No, something else is missing to that little puzzle.”

 

Strider grabbed her arm and brusquely pulled her to her feet. “Those are fucking filthy words you’re throwing my way.”

 

The woman forcibly pried his hand from her arm. “Facts not accusations. Our pact brought our minds very close, and I have a much better understanding of your nature.”

 

“Scrub your ears, Lalonde. I already told you. I’m a guy with a sword, alright? Perfectly. Fucking. Human.” The words stung on his tongue.

 

“I know, Dave.” Her voice went soft; Strider was almost suspicious of her intent. “I apologize. You’d prefer we not speak of it?”

 

Strider sat down right there in the alley. “Doesn’t matter what I prefer. Can’t exactly walk around telling every yahoo I meet that I don’t feel human.”

 

“Oh, David.” The woman, only moments ago a dangerous creature instilling primal fear in him, made an attempt to offer him comfort. Her hand was warm on his shoulder. “I can only guess how frustrating that is for you. Perhaps if we retire early for the evening, you’d like to share?”

 

“Forget it. There’s nothing to say, just me and my whiny ass, same as usual.”

 

Lalonde grinned at him. “While your ass  _ is _ a topic of interest, I wouldn’t mind hearing of your confusion over your humanity. If I may, your troubles aren’t dissimilar to what’s described in  _ ColoUrs and Mayhem _ , correct?”

 

“Fuck off, Lalonde. Ms. English has real issues. I’m just spewing shit out my faucet; the sewer’s backed up and there’s raw feces everywhere.”

 

“Charming. You feel out of place among humans, then? Perhaps some aspects of our culture perplexes you.”

 

Strider gave her a weary look. “Why the actual fuck do you all knock on doors? It’s this lame-ass facade; you're still stumbling in unannounced and uninvited like a drunk dog. Unless you were invited? Then the head of the domain knows you're there anyways.” He went on, not giving her a chance to respond. “And it’s like obligations mean nothing to you. If you cancel on a spirit, at the absolute minimum, you better offer up prime booze on your hands and knees. Humans just… pretend nothing happened.”

 

Lalonde nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. If anything comes up, you can expect only the finest vintage wine from my cellar.”

 

“Oh, don’t bother. If it’s from you, it has to be some kind of insult, somehow.”

 

“Perhaps.” The woman laughed. “This really isn’t the appropriate setting for such an exchange. I’ll insist this time: we should retire early. Just one matter of importance left first.”

 

He guessed, “Gotta whoop your ass, ‘cause you’re carrying around the fucking bones from a woman’s arm.”

 

“Not quite. We still haven’t taken any action regarding Mr. Ampora.”

 

“Right. The dude had no qualms about punching a hole through a girl; you reckon he’d do it again?”

 

Lalonde stared at him for a long time. “I don’t know.”

 

“You think we should hit him with a couple hole punchers ourselves despite not knowing?”

 

“...I am unsure.”

 

A weird look crossed her face, and her well of prose completely dried up. Strider pressed, “You’re the one that brought it up. What’s your plan?”

 

She snapped, “I don’t know, David! They won’t answer.”

 

“What.”   
  


“The Nobles, they won’t tell me his verdict. It seems they’ve lost interest in me now that I’ve become untouchable.”

 

“And? I don’t give a shit what they think. I’m asking  _ you _ if the fishface deserves to die.”

 

Her voice went shrill, “What?! I have- I have  _ no _ right to decide whether a person lives, why would you even think to ask?”

 

Strider let all of his surprise and skepticism show. “Cause that’s what you’ve been doing this whole gog  **DAMNED** time.”

 

“You don’t understand. I was never the jury, merely the executioner.”

 

He clenched his fists. “So you’re trying to tell me there was never a moment you could’ve stopped and said ‘hey this poor motherfucker doesn’t deserve to die’? If those darkling shits declared someone dead, you had to do it?”

 

“It was never my choice, I-” She cut herself off. “No, I let you go. They told me to kill you, but I refused, earning their hostility.”

 

“I’m flattered,” he deadpanned. More sincerely, he added, “Sorry. You ended up on the dinner menu ‘cause of me.”

 

“No apology is necessary. Our pact is a much more reasonable option for keeping you in check than outright elimination. Besides, John would never forgive me.”

 

Strider kept pressing, “That doesn’t apply to some of the demons you hunt?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “We can acquire Ampora’s current status and decide how to proceed from there.”

 

“You’re more confused than I am, Lalonde.”

 

She offered him a hand. “The situation is wearing on me a bit.”

 

He took it and was pulled to his feet. “No shit. I’m amazed you made it this long juggling that mess of decisions on your own.”

 

“As opposed to my lone effort, you’re reinforcing the suggestion of a collective approach, then?”

 

“Why the fuck not. Already got a pact, some advice on the downlow isn’t any worse.”

 

Lalonde squeezed his hand. “I suppose I could find it in my heart to exchange a few words with a needy soul here and there. A lost creature such as yourself will surely cling to any guiding wisdom to lead you from your identity crisis.”

 

“Fuck you, I meant advice for you.” Strider found he was almost smiling. Merely having the option was relieving.

 

She chuckled. “Of course you did. Shall we?”

 

He nodded. “Call it a night? Not if you intend to stop me from taking care of a few hunting targets on the way home.”

 

“We’ll see.”

 

~~~   
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Feel free to send any questions my way.
> 
> <3 Flare


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